Transference
by coyotecyb
Summary: 5 Friends find themselves trapped in an impossibly real world where they must fight not only for survival but for the existence of the world they are in . . .and the one they come from. A novel in waiting here, Copy-written looking for agent.
1. Chapter 1

**Prelude into Hell**

**_I_** stood there frozen as the Alliance forces came over the hill, their actions reflecting the Hoard they claimed to hate. Like flashes of instant rage, the sunlight gleamed off their steel armor and weapons casting crystalline beams in all direction. Around me, the howls and cries of the members of the Horde army reverberated through my skull causing my tusks to quiver painfully. Shouts of assembly and barked orders scrambled for supremacy in the cacophony. Time slowed as I saw the Arathi Highlands in all their glory for a brief eternity; the lush grasses motionless, mid-sway in a nonexistent breeze. The sun glinted off mica deposits high in the mountains above, throwing streams of light in all directions. The distant cry of a Highland raptor could be heard over the approaching masses, sounding like a scream of anguish at the forthcoming slaughter. All this I heard and saw while I desperately tried to remember the phrase to a spell, the hand motion to summon a storm of ice to slow the oncoming host.

Suddenly a Tauren grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me and shouting in my face.

"Marc! Snap out of it, we need you right **now**!" Harley... it was Harley; he was shaking me when suddenly I realized where and who I was. Looking around quickly, I saw Jake and Shelly, their undead flesh glowing with the preparation of spell and summon respectively. I glimpsed Rad off in the distance moments before he faded from view, going off in search of unsuspecting victims. There was a sharp push at my back and I looked around to see the Horn covered face of Oreo, Harley's pet Raptor, who seemed to have much more intelligence than he should.

The sound of rushing water resounded, and I was turning back to see Jake's Water Elemental emerge from nowhere, while the low bass rumble of Shelly's Void Walker complained of his summons to battle, and suddenly I was intoning the spidery incantation of an Ice Storm to throw into the midst of the rush of Human, Dwarf, and Night Elves bearing down on us. When the battle was joined, the screams of the fallen and wounded pierced me to the core. Blood mixed with dust and dirt, creating a quagmire of slime underfoot, and mirrored the sludge of confusion threatening to take over my mind. Our minds. It was then the thought came again – the one I had fought with numerous times while looking at a reflection of this blue skin and tusks of mine.

_Could I fight and kill Humans, or any living being for that matter, after being one for so long_?

At this point I can assume you're confused. Trust me; it cannot be worse than those first few days. A dream come true and a nightmare I couldn't wake from. But I digress; I am getting ahead of myself. I will start further back, a little history to fill in the blanks and bring you up to the present.

Three or four days a week, I lost myself in the mass online game known as World of Warcraft, created by Blizzard Entertainment. Most people know of this game, or have at least heard of it. Game mechanics aside, it is simply a virtual world where you create a fantasy character and live an alternate life; any more of an in depth explanation would be a useless endeavor. Well known around the world, it was played by countless millions. Some, like the younger fans that had the time, made it a lifestyle and filled every spare moment with play like an addiction. Others, like my skydiving wife, loved the game but only played when real life slowed down to allow it. A few others in the group and myself fell somewhere in between. Suffice it to say that after years of playing I still learn new things about the game every week.

It was a typical Saturday night as we all gathered online, donning headsets and settled into our respective seats. Snack food, drinks and, for some, cigarettes all within arm's reach for the hours to come. I had a room in the basement allowing me the freedom to spend hours uninterrupted at the game, while my wife, Tanya, had a desk in the living room upstairs for when she chose to join in. Firing up a smoke, I took a swig of soda and logged into the talk server we used to speak to each other while playing and found everyone already there and bantering as usual.

"Whoops, there's Marc, shhh," Jake started right off.

"Where you at man?", Joe's deep voice inquired immediately after.

"Gimme a sec, I'm loggin in now," I responded while opening the program and hammering out the necessary password on my keyboard.

"Well hurry your old ass up," Jake cracked jovially.

"IgnOring youuu," I retorted in a sing song voice, receiving a chuckle from both Jake and Joe for my efforts.

A few loading screens later, I found myself sitting in the capital city of Orgrimmar staring at an all too familiar scene. Gasbag – Jake's undead mage character and the first of five in this group of friends was bouncing around in incessant circles atop the roof of the Orgrimmar bank, talking casually about whatever came to mind. No matter how long he played the game, the guy's fascination with the feature allowing players to jump never seemed to cease. Although he assures me he is actually quite sedentary, I often imagine him wiggling around in his chair, unable to sit still even in reality.

Despite the extensive list of annoyances Jake could put out, he was actually quite an interesting fellow, and a bit of refreshment in this sea of uniform personalities. At the age of seventeen, he had a voice deeper than my own, and he conveyed a presence that deceived most into believing that he was actually older than his age. He seemed to find humor in the many anomalies and exploits of the game, and would abuse them to whatever degree he could. I cannot tell you how many times I have had to sort through my mail in game and separate the auction winnings from the 'boar intestines,' 'rotting bear carcasses,' and other useless items he would send.

Closely following Gasbag in his seemingly random path of endless hopping was Radamantis, Joe's undead rogue character. He seemed to be infected by the leaping-disease as well, which was a common occurrence with too much exposure to Gasbag's contagious habits. Joe had many characters that went by many different names, but for some reason the name "Rad" had always stuck with him, regardless of his proper title. He was a veteran player enjoying the game since its earliest days and knew his way around better than most. He was a very easy-going guy, always brimming with advice and good company. Although he preferred sticking around this group of people, his resourcefulness gave him the ability to be quite independent when he needed to be.

Sitting quietly on the sidelines, Masharret – Shelly's warlock (and the final of the four undead characters) mounted her fiery Felsteed. She sat transfixed by the sheer stamina that Gas and Rad demonstrated through their unending jump cycle. Having been around us for so long, she had adapted to our constant stream of sarcasm and incorporated it impressively within her own sense of humor.

Standing idly in the corner, Nutterbutter – Harley's Tauren hunter character remained unintentionally stealthy while observing the conversations and habits of people within the group. With a preference for naming his characters after cookie brands, a habit he extended to naming his characters' pets. The thought of nobody noticing him had always tickled his cynical sense of humor, and he loved to stay quiet behind the scenes whenever he could. There were many more that joined us periodically for these nightly forays into fantasy and fun, but it seemed as if we had become the core for which an ever cycling number of people revolved around.

In the middle of the crisscrossing jump patterns that Rad and Gas had started months ago, I sat stoically with my wife, Tanya; an eye in the storm. Tanya didn't play on her undead warrior Leani as much as she used to; real life had a way of making itself important when it needed to, and she had been spending more time with her family. This included playing on another character with one of our young nephews. It was a rare pleasure to have her with us on this occasion.

"Fer' Christ's sake, Gas, would you quit jumping?" I exclaimed, my patience wearing thinner with every last jump.

"No way man, jumping is 97% of the game!" said Jake, provoking sarcastic responses and thus initiating the nightly ritual of witty remarks and derisive comebacks.

"And what's the other 3%?" asked Shelly, humoring the fabricated statistic.

"Well let's see… "Jake began and then proceeded to list off a slew of percentages followed by their subsequent fictitious meanings with an enthusiasm reserved for young children and over enthusiastic Kangaroos.

"Nice", I stated, entertained by the effort.

"Jeez Gas, with 97% of the game being jumping, I wonder how many space-bars your keyboard goes through," said Harley, revealing himself to everyone.

"Holy crap Nut, how long have you been here?" questioned Joe, suspending his jump cycle out of surprise.

"For about 20 minutes or so," he said with a chuckle.

"Jeez, this guy won't leave me alone! He keeps asking me to group up and quest with him," said Jake, easily frustrated at the repeated messages he was receiving from other players.

"It's because he thinks you're a girl. Why DID you make a female character anyway Gas? Some fantasies we don't know about?" teased Joe.

"It's kind of sad to think that people see a female character with the title of 'Gasbag' and don't stop to consider the possibility that the player is actually a guy," said Shelly.

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Guys treat you with more respect in this game if they think you're a woman. I mean, I just go with their assumptions," said Jake, defending his choice.

As normal as this banter was, it seemed to be giving me a headache. My head was dully throbbing, so in an attempt to prevent a full-blown migraine, I changed the subject.

"So as much as I enjoy just sitting here in Orgrimmar watching your plucky characters jump the night away, is there anything that we actually need to do?"

There was a brief silence as everyone mentally sorted through their lists of priorities and their incentives to do them.

"Well…" Joe began, "We could do some battlegrounds. I'm in the mood to do some player-vs-player fighting."

"Good idea, Rad, I could really use the points and Shmee could use the practice," stated Jake with a snicker. It was true, I was horrible at PvP battles; Jake and Joe had even nicknamed Shmeegun, my troll mage character, as the 'Dead Blue Troll.'

"Very funny, Jake, but I'm not going to pretend that I know what I'm doing while fighting other players… so yeah, I wouldn't mind the practice."

"Well, you know, _I_ wouldn't mind getting a few instance dungeons done…" piped up Tanya, known for having a slight distaste for PvP. "I mean we do have a pretty good group here."

"Good players, yes, but we'll need a healer if we're going to do an instance," chimed Shelly. "Now that I think of it, there's too many of us to do an instance."

"Yeah… in all honesty I don't think I'm up for an instance anyway. My head's killing me tonight," said Jake, still jumping in circles.

"Oh my god, I know what you mean; my head's throbbing right now," drawled Shelly.

"What, do we **all** have headaches tonight?" is something I **would**have said, but suddenly I noticed an ambient static that seemed to have just come within human-hearing range. It resonated in my skull causing me to wince. Sounding like the low guttural hum of a massive generator, mixed with the hiss of a television tuned to a dead channel. With every passing second, its pitch climbed a few hertz, making a slow and gradual gradient of really annoying sound.

"Ok, who's holding down their talk button?" I interrupted, not paying attention to whatever the topic had wandered to.

"What was that Shmee? I don't think anyone was talking just now…"

"Does anyone else hear that humming sound?" I asked, now totally confused. I frowned as a chorus of "nope's" fell over each other, and said, "Well damn it, I hope it's not my soundcard acting up… I can't afford to replace that right now." A whine crept over my voice as the sound intensified in pitch and volume at a seemingly exponential rate. The noise got louder, the rhythmic throb faster and twice as maddening each second. I soon realized that the noise was not coming from my headphones, so I took them off and began to wander the room, searching for a source.

It was infuriating, and it was exactly what my headache did **not** need. I suddenly found myself inexplicably angry, but not because I was frustrated; it was a kind of manic anger, where for a brief period I had the feeling that I had completely lost my mind. Reality was swirling around me, the noise overpowering every one of my senses, and my head felt as though it would explode. I could faintly make out the complaints of the others through the nearby headset. Apparently they were experiencing the same phenomenon I was, which now brought me to my knees from the pain.

I grabbed my head in attempt to somehow muffle the noise which had grown to an overwhelming scream of insanity. I felt my consciousness slipping further and further away as my sight dimmed and the screams of Tanya from upstairs were barely audible over the deafening frequency inside my head. A bright flash of light washed everything from my view and faded along with my cognizance as I fell into blissful blackness.

* * *

A roar of fury split the air as the demon's concentration was broken. His carefully primed summoning was interrupted by the sting of a blade piercing his calf. In desperation he closed the spell, letting those he had called fall where they would. Turning his wrath on the first target he could find, he brought his foot down, intending to squash the gnat that had caused the disruption. The tiny form was so small to him that he could not even tell what race it was. Yet as it rolled out of the way with blinding speed, he knew it would not be an easy kill.

The clanging of machinery and whispering of wraiths combined with the stench of death surrounded him in a blanket of corruption. He had listened to these sounds and reveled in this decay for months now, his newfound awareness making every second sweeter and every sensation more intense. Even those hated moments when he had been defeated and reborn were now looked upon as a birthing cycle into his newfound power. The first few times had been infuriating, thinking he had worked out everything to the last detail, and then losing it all at the last moment galled him to no end. After all his time spent out within his tower fortress (left behind by the destruction of his lord during the third war), he was finally able to return to this realm where he belonged. He had found a new source of power, a possible way to finally be rid of all the irritating gnats that assailed him, inevitably overcoming him every time. Bringing his attention back from his reverie, he focused on the group of insignificant bugs attempting to assail him. Throwing his arm out in a wave, he blanketed them in a haze of choking poison then shouted an incantation that slowed them all to half their normal speed. He grinned as he watched them choking and attempting to run from the cloud.

Three of them began to gesticulate feverishly and act as if they were throwing something at the ground, creating small wooden totems, a form of magic he knew Shamans to be capable of that had beneficial properties for everyone in the group. One seemed to neutralize the poison as their coughing and choking became less and less. Another created a fierce wind that dissipated the cloud, while a third seemed to enhance the spell casters ability as their attacks grew in intensity.

He was less concerned with any damage they had on him than the overall distraction from what he had been doing. The fact that these mortals could inconvenience him at such a crucial time was infuriating, and the more time it took to get rid of them the angrier he got.

"Impudent mortals, all of you will now **die**!"

With that, he activated the two huge automatons behind him, massive mechanical constructs called Fel Reavers, which stood some 50 feet tall. Black metal encased the entire form, the legs like fluted tree trunks, bottomed out in squared off blocks that served as feet. On its back, two huge cylinders rhythmically pumped up and down, providing power and locomotion. The head resembled a death mask of grillwork and sharp protrusions, instilling even more terror in those it faced. Setting these loose on the group, he also threw out showers of fiery meteors, striking all his targets and setting them aflame. He was able to take a small amount of pleasure, stomping out one of the little flailing fireballs. Between the mechanical monsters grinding the group of attackers underfoot and the demon's flaming meteors, it didn't take long before there was a new coat of blood and gore for his minions to play in.

A sound behind the demon brought his attention to the small cage near the massive stone structure that served as his throne. Inside was a grotesque simulacrum of what once could have been a human. This creature (which could have been human, were it not for the grotesque proportions that it was made of), composed of masses of translucent flesh, looked as if someone had haphazardly attached its arms to the torso. However, its front was in sorry neglect, being left open, exposing bone and sinew. The head, which was now busy retching through the bars violently, was a model of Frankenstein's monster with no hair and its features bloated from decomposition.

"Just think, soon I'll be able to do this in your world as well," His voice boomed as his grin turned into laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

**1**

**Separation**

_**J**_ake's head was pounding when he awoke, and the next sensation to penetrate his senses was smell. This was characterized by the rancid stench of rotting flesh filled with the inevitable propagating mold and bacteria. The unbidden picture of an enormous bog filled with thousands of putrid corpses arose in his mind.

He quickly realized that he was not prepared for some other sensations; a breeze blowing over him that seemed to whisper a song of violence, and the subtle, but unmistakable crunch of grass beneath him. The coldness that permeated his bones had nothing to do with the weather and he felt an icy mist that seemed to coat his face. Opening his eyes slowly, he tried to stand up, but stumbled slightly as he realized that something was binding his knees and legs together. Looking down at his clothes, he saw a pattern of an impressive design which made up intricate shapes of blue and gray. He was wearing a very fancy robe, which he immediately (and amazingly) recognized.

_Where the hell am I?_Jake thought, letting loose a toneless sigh, considering possibilities. _Can't be a dream, too real . . . unless it's a lucid one . . ._

He glanced around slowly, trying to stifle the hundreds of questions going through his head while attempting to take in his surroundings. _Well let's test that theory_.

He yelled, "Well where the hell are all of the beautiful naked-"

Stopping abruptly, he grabbed at his throat. His voice was lacking the low rumbling tone that would normally match the voice in his head. He tried clearing his throat with no luck; his voice sounded like a cranky, grumbling, congested female.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," the voice from his throat grated as his eyes went wide with realization.

He knew what had happened at that moment, even though his mind refused to believe it. Taking another look at his peculiar setting (the color of the soil, the shapes of the terrain, the menacing faces on all of the bent, broken and rotting trees), this was the Eastern Plaguelands within the World of Warcraft. It seemed so strange though, as everything wasn't being viewed through polygons and pixels, but an uncomfortably realistic setting. He caught a glimpse of his right hand and immediately turned his attention to the fact that he had hideous small banana-sized claws jutting out from where his fingers should be.

A rush of clarity and recognition began to rise, and Jake began to panic. He was Gasbag, Jake's undead female mage character. Looking up again, he shook his head.

"This figures, The Eastern Plaguelands, how lucky am I?" He growled sarcastically.

Reconsidering the possibility that he was dreaming, Jake spotted a blur of movement in the corner of his eye, and the screech caused him to whirl around and set his eyes on one of the most horrible sights he had ever seen. A familiar denizen of that forsaken land, a gargoyle, had spotted what it thought to be easy prey, and a look of satisfaction could be seen on its ghastly features.

"Oh, **that's** how lucky I am."

Instinct took over, and Jake turned and ran from the flapping horror bearing down on him with murderous intent. He took only a few steps before stumbling and falling flat on his face, not at all used to the petite boney legs he had received gift-wrapped in this constricting fabric.

_Wait a minute_ he thought. _He was Gasbag, a rather powerful and experienced mage, capable of dishing out magics that could turn fearsome creatures into frostbitten corpses_. Turning around to face the gargoyle, he saw its expression change to a serious predatory scowl as it approached its kill.

Making a quick estimation in his head, Jake thought _Ok, Eastern Plaguelands normally has creatures around level fifty-five to sixty, with something like three thousand hit points and weak offensive attacks_. He scoffed and shook his head. _I could probably do that much damage in a few shots_! No longer worried, Jake raised his hand to cast a frost bolt with a grin. He chuckled when his eyes locked with the predator's. _Man, is he gonna be surprised._

Nothing happened.

There was no frostbolt, no charge up of energies, no release, nothing, and now the gargoyle was within range to attack. The panic and chaos overrode any semblance of reason, but luckily for Jake, instinct took over.

He closed his eyes frantically in an attempt to make the whole situation simply vanish. Then he heard the snap of bone and jaw meeting in a twisted matrimony, and Jake screamed.

The pain was agonizing. The monster's jaws had locked onto the hand that he had outstretcheded to cast his fictional frostbolt. The sensation was unlike any other pain Jake had experienced; his vision blurred and his breath escaped him in ragged gasps. It seemed so unreal. Helplessly trying to free his hand from the gargoyle's maw, Jake wildly looked around and saw his familiar staff on the ground beside him. Grabbing it, he struck the monster in the nose with as much force as he could muster. It seemed weak and pitiful to Jake, but it was enough to free himself as the creature howled at the attack, letting go and backing off a few feet. He turned around yet again, scrambling for his footing, and ran. Running seemed the only thing he could do for the moment, and each footfall, jarring his injured hand to new heights of anguish, reminded him that the pain was real; this was no dream, and indeed it was not a matter of numbers and gaming strategies. He would have to figure out something quick, and he knew it. If there was no mistaking his five senses, and he **was** in the game within this highly dangerous area, he better find out how to access his abilities or he wouldn't last long.

Not long at all.

* * *

"_**U**_den ver Majis."

This was the first sound that Joe heard after the humming, and for some reason the incoherent babble sounded familiar, like he should know it.

At the same moment, a thunderous bellowing commenced in the distance, but Joe could not place his recognition for the throaty, yet distant cries that followed.

. His eyes snapped open, and he was surrounded by armor clad humans with swords and shields and other various medieval armaments, all looking off toward the sound anxiously. Overwhelmed by the visual and auditory hallucinations he **had** to be suffering, he scrambled backwards in a crab walk until he collided roughly with the trunk of a tree. Quickly scooting around behind it, Joe did his best to remain as unnoticed as possible. Two of the 'knights' looked back to where he had been laying and pointed at the spot on the ground, shouting to the others. An argument broke out between two of them, and it looked as if it would come to blows before a third knight intervened and yelled at the both of them, obviously chastising them for their behavior. Pointing out in a general direction, the one who had rebuked the two soldiers seemed to be ordering them to go out and search the area.

Joe began to panic, and even though he had never hallucinated before, he was pretty sure that they could not possibly be this real. He sat back down with his back against the tree and tried to calm down to assess his situation. He looked at his surroundings, in an attempt to get his bearings, and started to notice little things that seemed familiar. The slope of a hill in the distance, the fences by the road near where the soldiers had found him, some of the wildlife he saw grazing nearby. He rubbed his palms into his eyes, trying to massage away this nightmare, when he realized that his hands felt wrong. Pulling them away, he started to think of an impossible possibility and opened his eyes slowly.

Claws, talon like, with black severe looking nails were attached to black-clad boney arms. A glow by his side brought his attention to the blade hanging from his belt; the familiar sickly black radiance emanating from it sealed any doubts about what was going on.

The unmistakable clink of mail to his left snapped his attention back to the present situation, and a scowl crossed his lips as he gripped the pommel of his weapon. Around the tree came one of the knights, sword and shield in hand, his eyes flittering back and forth with steely determination. Joe could feel the underlying fear and see the sweat rolling off his brow from where he crouched. The armor-clad human stopped as his gaze swung toward the spot where Joe squatted. He was close enough that Joe could see a few strands of blond hair peeking out from under his helmet, and he thought he could smell the garlic on his breath. Back and forth the eyes went searching, looking like they could almost make something out… And on he went like he had never seen him.

_Holy crap_! He looked down to make sure he was still there. Although those words accurately encompassed everything in Joe's mind, they were more specifically directed at the realization that he must have somehow used his innate ability to fade from the sight of others. He frequently used the skill as the character Radamantis in World of Warcraft.

_Damnit Shmee!_It was a common statement that could be heard nightly, and it conjured up the image of the big blue troll, who was always getting himself killed. Rad wished he were here now, and he smiled slightly at the thought.

_I could use a laugh right about now too_. With an inward sigh, he watched the human move further away. Watching the clanking soldier attempt to make his way up another hill, eyes narrowed in recognition at the markings of the crest on the cloth draped over the armor, and his eyes went wide as he realized that he was smack in the middle of allied territory.

_Goldshire! I'm in Goldshire, what the hell_!?

Suddenly, a rhythmic pounding behind him that caused a tremor in the ground beneath his feet. Less fearful of being seen now, Radamantis stood and looked around the tree. Past the assemblage of silver-plated humans, Joe saw a pair of shiny black horns crest the ridge in front of them. The rest of the half ton creature followed, arms and legs pumping, and Joe could see the wild look in its eyes and hear the huff of each breath. The Tauren carried what appeared to be a huge shotgun; a large scope adorned the top of the double barreled monstrosity. Somewhere behind the half bovine, he heard the shriek of some predator that somehow sounded familiar. Then it hit him.

_Nutter?_ _Wait a minute… That's Harley_!

Then the huge humanoid bull immediately stopped short once he saw the collection of armed humans. Fearfully looking behind him, at something Radamantis could not see. He looked back at the crowd and seemed to freeze in place.

Joe knew then that they were in trouble.

* * *

_**T**_he snuffling and wet breath on his face was the first thing Harley felt as be began the climb from unconsciousness.

_I fell asleep at the keyboard again, damnit_. Swinging his arm at what he assumed to be his pet, he groaned, "Gimme a second, willya, dog?" Harley went to rub his face and immediately realized there was something horribly wrong when he grabbed a long furry snout. His eyes snapped open, and he was staring into the face of terror itself. Looking at Harley from a mere two inches away was the face of a black horned raptor, its breath causing him to cringe. Its needle-like teeth protruded from black gums, making it look like the creature was almost smiling at him.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Harley bellowed in a voice so loud and full of bass that he knew it could not be his. This caused the raptor to leap back with a scream, looking impossibly confused.

Harley scrambled to his feet, gripping the gun at his side tightly.

_GUN_?!

He brought the impractically huge weapon up to his face and, with it, his three-fingered hand. Looking down at himself, he took a hasty inventory of what he saw. Red gloves, red cloth thing on his chest with some symbol on it, huge green shoulders, blue scaled pants, and hooves. He definitely was not feeling himself at all.

"GAHHHHHHHH!" he screamed again, almost dropping the firearm and causing the raptor to bark loudly, swishing its tail in agitation. He looked at the raptor, then at the surrounding area, and just couldn't assimilate what he was seeing. So he did what any sane human would do – he ran.

Choosing a course away from the terrifying creature, he pounded up a nearby hill and heard a screech as the raptor gave chase. He skirted around a few trees, hooves spraying clods of grass and dirt, and found his huge frame to be more agile than he would have guessed. Up over another rise, he came face to face with a group of armored humans and skidded to a halt. Pin wheeling his arms for balance, he almost toppled over forward, while his breath sounding like a bellows in his ears. The group stood there looking at him with frightened, but ominous looks of menace. He snapped a look over his shoulder, back at the raptor moving his way with all speed, and then back at the humans who had started to boldly but slowly move toward him.

Time seemed to stop for the moment as his brain went into overdrive in an attempt to keep his shattering psyche from completely flying apart. It formed a list.

Humans in armor,

Raptors,

Swords,

Big guns,

Humanoid cows,

_Ok pal_, one part of him said, _them there is the facts, you know what they all add up to, no matter how impossible it might seem_.

_But this is ridiculous_, he quarreled. _There's just no way it's possible_!

_Trust me,_ he argued back with himself, _those swords look very real and very painful, and as for the thing coming up behind you, well, if all this is what it seems, he's probably gonna get himself killed trying to save your big cow ass_.

Time regained its momentum, and, in frustration, Harley raised his fists while subsequently raising his gun with a renewed roar.

"This **sucks**. What the hell is going on?"

At the outburst, the crowd stopped short, clearly confused at the theatrics and intimidated at the sight of this lone, but enraged Tauren. At that moment, the raptor flew past Harley, talons throwing clumps of dirt high in the air behind it, strait for the collection of people with a roar. Its tail swished back and forth with the snapping whistle of displaced wind. Losing their nerve and faced with three hundred pounds of scaled ravenous fury and snapping teeth, most of them scattered and ran hastily in the opposite direction. Deciding he would rather not see the raptor's natural defenses first hand, Harley took advantage of the momentary confusion and called his pet back to him.

"Oreo, get back here!"

_That's its name?_ He wondered how he had remembered the raptor's name as it turned around immediately, running back toward him.

"I still can't believe you named him that," said a ghostly voice beside him.

"Jesus Christ!" Harley swore as the small figure of a bent and sickly looking creature materialized out of nowhere right next to him.

"Well not really, but I do hope if were killed, we can rez like in the game," said Joe with a rotten tooth-filled grin. "But for right now, let's get the hell out of here and figure out what's going on when were a bit less noticeable."

"Joe?" Harley asked, snorting involuntarily at the slight, but inescapable smell of decayed flesh. The sound caused him to grimace slightly.

"Yeah… Well more or less." The animated cadaver gave a helpless shrug. "Let's discuss it later, shall we?"

The bipedal bull squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose between his oversized thumb and forefinger. He sighed, "Ok, which way."

Joe looked back at the small band of guards left and then in direction the others were running.

"Well, I'd bet a hundred gold that they," he pointed at the receding guards, "are headed to Stormwind, so let's go the other way."

"Stormwind? You mean were in Goldshire!?" Harley looked around incredulously.

"Not for long if we're lucky. Now move before they get their courage back."

Harley gave a shrill whistle to the now all too familiar reptile, calling him to follow, and putting hoof to ground rapidly while Joe's clawed and boney feet puffed up little dust clouds beside him.

As they started to run, a lone, female Night Elf, who stood amidst the small band, was left looking very confused. Her amber-glowing eyes widened in sudden recognition at the receding pair; she uttered one word.

"Rad?"

* * *

_**O**__h my God, this is the worst headache I have ever had._Shelly furrowed her eyebrows in pain as she started to come around. _I hope it isn't a tumor or something like that; gonna have to set up a doctor's appointment…_ She stopped mid thought as sound – **lots** of sound – started to register in her brain. The first she recognized was the sound of wolves , howling wolves. An array of noise indicating the hustle and bustle of a large city was next… a city with no cars. She heard no engines or horns, but a lot of talking and something that sounded like construction assaulted her ears. A closer conversation came into her auditory focus, very near in fact – a conversation from odd and equally upsetting voices.

"She be ded?" a female voice asked, sounding like a metal rake being dragged over crystal rocks with a Rastafarian twang.

"Well that's a relative question now isn't it?" answered a hollow voice; the pitch and tone much lower than the first.

"Dat be verr funnah," said the first with a slight chuckle. "You knowin what I and I be sayin."

"Yes, and no she is not dead. In fact, I'd say she is awake now."

Realizing that she could no longer feign sleep she opened her eyes and felt the need to scream but found she could not find the breath to do so.

There were two very different looking people standing over her with looks of interest on their horrific and very dissimilar faces. The female, her mouth distended over small protruding tusks, looked to be a lost member of the blue man group with her entire body showing cerulean skin. A peculiar looking hairstyle sprouted from between two long pointed ears jutting just to the top of her skull. At least Shelly assumed it was female, as it had breasts filling out the very eccentric looking robe she wore, but she had never met a troll in person before. A large intricate staff peaked out from over her shoulder that seemed to pulse with an inner light.

The other was obviously male with an exposed chest showing a few ribs – and not starvation ribs; there were actual **holes** in his body through the grey, mottled flesh. He wore loose fitting black pants, and she noticed that his feet were encased in what seemed to be steel boots of some kind. The deep sockets that served to hold his eyes had green glowing orbs in their place.

"Wat she be doin'?" the female asked, crossing her arms while tilting her head to one side and swinging her hip to the other. The look of calm curiosity on her face was unnerving. I believe she is trying to scream." He shrugged, looking back at the fantastical creature. "Perhaps she lost something in the shifting of magics she was attempting to perform." He turned back to Shelly.

"Do you know where you are?" he asked in his gravelly voice.

In horrid fascination, she realized that the right side of his face had no skin on the jaw whatsoever. She could actually see his tongue flap and juggle itself around the hollow blackness that was his mouth. Shelly could only shake her head at first as she tried desperately to wrap her head around what she was seeing. She reached up to rub her face with her hand and stopped short as she saw that her hands looked hideously similar to the hands of the corpse-like being addressing her. Blackened and shriveled, her fingers stuck out from fingerless gloves that had designs weaved within the dark cloth. She looked them over in a slow almost dreamlike state, her mind starting to slowly put things together. The walking corpse cleared its throat, a wet and chaotic sound, and Shelly looked up to see her surroundings for the first time.

The room she was in looked similar to those huts she would see on the Discovery channel programs about natives in far off lands. Huge beams, looking like trees shorn of their bark, seemed to make up the framework, and she realized that the light in the room came from torches in sconces on the wall. The constructive material had an orange hue and seemed to consist of mud and dried grass, pressed and formed into shape by hand. She could almost see the clawed hand prints of whatever had created them. She saw a set of intricately carved and worked armor sitting below one of the torches on the wall that visibly matched the boots on the male's feet. Resting nonchalantly next to the suit (its open appearance and placement as casual as a set of car keys) was a massive sword that looked to be made of green, softly glowing crystal.

Another throat clearing brought her attention back to her hosts.

"Any luck yet?" asked the troll, her red eyes seeming to emit a light of their own.

"N – Not sure." her voice grated out, and she clapped a hand over her mouth at the sound.

Pulling up a stool, the male corpse slid near the cot that Shelly was spread out on and clasped his hands while leaning on his knees. His raspy voice took on a sympathetic tone as he began to speak.

"You are Masharret, a very powerful undead warlock. A few hours ago, you were attempting to change your disciplines from one path of magic to another. In the course of this, you lost consciousness, and not without a fight, I might add. You have been comatose until a few moments ago, which in and of itself is strange as we undead are not prone to comatose states. Speaking of 'we,' I am Morticide, and this is Safia." He waved his hand, indicating the nodding female behind him. "We have been waiting for you here, this being the Drag in Orgrimmar, since your episode."

The names took a few seconds to register as Shelly pulled herself into a sitting position. Taking a second look at the two who stood before her, she started to realize that even though the clothing was what it should be and the facial features were exactly as they should be, she had not recognized the familiar characters from the game that she knew by those names. Without the pixilated graphics and background music, it was just too real at first for her to see.

"Morty?" Her voice crackled out the nickname she and others of the guild had for the formidable warrior.

He stood, a distasteful grimace crossing his features, and even Safia seemed a bit taken aback.

"Not a name I relish, but one I have been called, although not by you in some time."

It was then that the full magnitude of the situation of what had happened finally settled in the pit of what was left of Shelly's stomach. She was not **just** in the game of World of Warcraft; she was in a completely different realm. Although tailored to the one she knew and populated by characters familiar to her, these were not the players she was acquainted with. These were the actual denizens of this world. _And if I want to get anywhere, I'm going to have to pretend like I am no different… Well, I always __**did **__want to see what it would be like to be an actress._

Gathering her courage and swinging her legs over the side of the cot, Shelly… no, Masharret now, gathered her wits about her and stood. The others watched her quizzically as she looked them over one more time, trying to quickly gain some sense of what they would expect of her, and then she spoke.

"My apologies Morticide, It seems that I will have to be more careful in the future when dealing with such magics." She took a few moments more, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her garment and continued. "Now I seem to still have some readjusting to do, as this effect I suffer from has not fully worn off, and would greatly appreciate your assistance in showing me around a bit to refresh my memory – such as it is." She smiled as disarmingly as she could, given her current appearance, which seemed enough as both of them seemed to relax immediately at her change of attitude.

"Of course," Morticide answered, turning to gather his armaments. "We would be delighted to, and if your initial reaction is any indication, we should probably reacquaint you with some of your colleagues as well."

That last statement caused her to stumble slightly, which she quickly covered by angrily tugging at her robes and muttering about needing a tailor, but the immediate thought that had caused the stagger had been much more.

_Colleagues – the others – what happened to the others?!_


	3. Chapter 3

**2**

**Premonitions and realizations**

_**V**_yerna awoke from the disturbing dream with a start. Helpless rage, fear, anguish, and disjointed images of wanton senseless death; all of this assailed her as she sat shaking in the antonymic peacefulness of her room. Her hands clenched over her unsettled abdomen, tears rolled down over her confused features, and without knowing why, she began to sob uncontrollably. She felt trapped and lost, as if something out of her control were consuming all she held dear, and she was to bear witness to some horrific occurrence with no way to affect the outcome.

Having a propensity for prophetic visions, Vyerna was still shocked and uneasy at this one; the intensity with which it affected her was far above what she was used to. There was also a sense of duality that accompanied it, as if a part of her knew exactly what it all meant was screaming to be heard, but she could not quite -

( What the hell is happening?!)

She gasped involuntarily, her amber eyes flashing wide and her ears going ridged at the sound of the unfamiliar voice in her head.

"In the name of Stormrage, who is that?" she whispered to herself.

(What the hell is Stormrage?)

"Nonononononono…" she moaned. Grasping her head and doubling over, she rolled from her bed and curled into a fetal position on the carpet. Then she quickly sat upright, her eyes seeing the room as if for the first time, and she felt herself 'pushed' aside as another consciousness took over with powerful abandon. This new self seemed utterly and completely confused at where it was and how it had gotten there. Though she had no control of her eyes, she looked around the room, and could feel the other's sense of fear and bewilderment.

Taking advantage of the turbulent and uncontrolled emotions, she quickly forced herself to the fore and took control of her faculties again, but not without hearing one last indignant interjection.

(Hey!)

Shaking her head to confirm her grip on herself, the young Night Elf stood and resolutely gritted her teeth. Breathing steadily, she clenched and unclenched her fists, quickly regaining her composure. After a few moments of this calming ritual she headed to the washroom. .

In the middle of splashing some water on her face, the young Night Elf heard shouts of distress from outside. Being a normally quiet town, Vyerna knew that those sounds could only mean trouble. Without hesitation, she ran to her door. Grabbing her staff with one hand, she flung the door wide and sprinted toward the commotion, which seemed to be coming from the center of town. Once there, she found a group of guards and townspeople gathered in the road; one of the captains was shouting at his men and pointing off in the distance. Suddenly a roar erupted from the lower hills beyond the crowd, stopping Vyerna cold in her tracks. She immediately and unconsciously assumed a ready stance, her lithe form slightly crouched and staff clutched tightly in both hands.

Up over the rise thundered the one of the biggest Tauren she had ever seen, and the gun he carried matched him for its size. At first she thought he was crazed with some sort of battle frenzy or blood lust to be charging straight into the center of Goldshire, but as he reached the top of the ridge and stopped at the sight of the soldiers, she realized that it was terror and confusion that were affecting his actions. He looked over his shoulder at something behind him and back at the crowd, then brandished his weapon in the air, roaring something in his language. A moment later, the more astonishing sight of a raptor burst past him and toward the multitude, maw wide and tail lashing. Completely caught off guard at the sight of the huge reptile and already stunned by the abrupt intrusion into their quiet little town, the guards and people scattered like chaff in the wind. Then, almost as quickly, the Tauren yelled again, and the massive lizard swung about and headed back towards him. Having no recourse but to stand and watch with all the people fleeing around her, Vyerna assumed a shepherd role and made sure people got securely past her to safety with no one trampled. Most of the guards headed toward Stormwind along the North road while the few that stayed were trying desperately to muster some form of defense.

As the last of the people got to shelter in the shops and houses, the young priestess brought her attention fully back to the Tauren and what she then knew to be his pet raptor. They had both moved further down the road, and the giant bovine was looking around again in confusion while seeming to be conversing with his pet. Vyerna didn't know whether that was possible or not; the Horde was not a subject she was versed in as yet. Most of her priestly training thus far had more to do with defensive and healing magics, not Horde social practices.

The Tauren again looked in her direction, and as he did so his pet shifted to the side, and she saw what she first thought to be a human of short stature. Dressed all in black and from afar, she realized he could easily be mistaken for one, that is, until one caught site of the glowing orbs that passed for eyes. She had never seen one of the undead until that moment, but afterwards she knew why most spoke of them in such hushed and frightened tones. Even from so far away, she could feel the cold essence of death and decay emanating off the walking corpse. Her revulsion grew as she realized she could also see his bones at the joints of both arms and legs.

Suddenly, the forgotten presence in the back of her mind surged forward with a jolt; catching her completely unawares, it took full control and spoke.

"Rad?"

* * *

_**I **_had just one thought running through my mind: _How the_ _hell did I end up in a car accident_? It was the simplest explanation for the complete disorientation I felt. I have had a few really good ones in my past, too. I should not have walked away from one of them, but I did. So, being accustomed to the experience, I was sure that was what had happened… until my ears stopped ringing and I heard noises that definitely did not have anything to do with automobiles. Sounds and vibrations… like a subsonic humming reverberating in my bones. Distant cries echoed in the cavernous maw of cotton-filled miasma that was my head. Even though it was slowly clearing, nothing I heard or felt was making much sense. It was not long before an increasingly painful ache clambered its way up my spine and was spreading throughout the rest of my body, as though I had been thrown from the aforementioned vehicle and slammed mercilessly into the pavement. A voice started to worm its way through the haze of soreness, a voice that was nowhere near familiar, but somehow I recognized it.

"Shmee are you alright?" The voice seemed to claw its way through wet sandpaper.

I groaned, my eyes still squeezed shut against the pain, and tried to sit up.

"Well at least he's still alive," a musical female voice floated through the noise, seeming to clear a path with its melodic tenor straight into the muscles that worked my eyelids, causing them to snap open.

" Jesus Christ , Mon!" I exclaimed in rustic Jamaican tones that were definitely not supposed to be coming from my mouth. I quickly tried to scuttle backwards but found that I was already against a wall. A quick glance showed me that I was sitting in the middle of a massive set of stairs, which led down to my left, and an overhang of solid stone stretched over my head. Eyes wide in shock, I stood quickly and cried out in pain as one of my legs, apparently badly injured, gave way beneath me, and I collapsed just as fast in a heap against the same wall.

All around me stood impossible nightmarish creatures with one impractically beautiful female… elf?!

Long, wavy, jet-black hair framed the pale, luminous features of a child-like face. Red, pouting lips sat under a small, perfect nose, whose somniferous shadows were enhanced by the luminous green eyes dancing in what looked like concern. Dressed all in black with a hood containing her hypnotic face and incredibly long ears, the young elf wielded two cruel looking daggers that pulsed with indelibly black promise.

Closer than her, and the immediate cause of my panic-induced antics, was another female. Well, I guessed from the slim form and obvious mammary-enhanced clothing that she was a woman, but that was the extent of the similarity. Her bearing suggested concern, if a little confusion, but her face promised only ghoulish insanity. All my memories of the classic undead movies did little to prepare me for an encounter with the reality crouched before me. Beady black coals burned out of sunken, wrinkled sockets, surrounded by graying flesh, and the straps of moldy leather that crossed her face seemed to keep everything just barely in place. Thankfully, other than the talons that adorned her grotesquely long fingers, the rest of her form was clothed in magnificently embroidered robes of some supple looking material that resembled cotton and Lycra. The top of an intricately carved staff jutted over her shoulder. All points and curves, the top of the ornate rod was adorned with multifaceted jewels and engravings outclassing any work I had ever seen.

" C'mon , Rain, get him fixed up and let's get moving; our time is limited here," a basso voice rumbled, causing the undead woman before me to look over her shoulder and drawing my eye to yet another living breathing impossibility.

Standing over the outlandish being before me was what appeared to be a cow on two legs. All armor and bulging muscle, the towering Minotaur-like being was glancing over its shoulder nervously and casually swinging a mammoth hammer by its side. Vicious-looking black horns jutted from each side of the bull-like head, a thick mane of dark brown hair covering the top and sides, ending in braids past each green-plated armored shoulder.

"He's right," growled another deep voice from down the stairs. "We need to keep moving; Capacitus is near, and his minions have no doubt heard the commotion we have created."

Looking down the stairs, I was greeted by yet another walking impossibility from a place I had seen just about every night in the past two years through the screen of a monitor. But now it was beginning to look like reality had slipped out the door for a smoke break, taking everything logical with it, and I was left sitting on a very real stone staircase, the sights and sounds of the fictional construct known as Mechanar splayed out before me in undeniable clarity.

" C'mon , Rain, get him fixed up and let's **move**." Rhok gestured toward me with his weapon, a huge bear claw that extended off his fist.

And suddenly I was just **there**; the creatures, the names, the sounds, the scents and surroundings. My brain just accepted or – what's the word – **acclimated**, like I was supposed to be there all along and new that what we were doing served a purpose . My leg throbbed and tingled as the magic flowed through it, knitting bone and flesh as a warmth coursed through me, energizing and revitalizing me. I stood cautiously, testing my weight before leaning fully on my leg, bouncing slightly. Reaching down I grasped my staff and headed down the stairs, a stupid grin curled around my tusks.

" I and I be ready , Rhok, mon," I said, the Jamaican accent now recognizable as this world's version of the Troll dialect. As I passed the massively armored and armed Orc, I spoke with gusto, "Let's **do** 'dis 'ting."

When it all began, I knew what I was supposed to do and even how to do it. For some reason, the magic part of it just came naturally, like I was already in touch with whatever forces controlled it. Blackfire - her name derived from the energy given off by her magical blades - was never seen until one of her weapons was protruding through the chest of an attacker, and then she was gone again, fading like the proverbial ghost. Rhok and Rainfendi would alternate between attacks, his mighty claws causing huge rents in the flesh of his opponent, and her little shadow fiend slashing and screaming , healing spells cast where needed. The Druid Cor shifted into his mighty bear form and, roaring loudly, charged into an oncoming enemy, bowling them over and tearing into them regardless of size or weapon swung at him. As for me, it was almost like the game again; I could pick and choose my target, call to mind whichever spell I could remember, and cast. A frostbolt here, a fireblast there - it was almost fun. It took me a little while to figure out that as I would cast, I could feel the drain on my body and that if I used the magic too much too fast I became dizzy and weak. I also started to perceive the bodies as real corpses when the smell began to build up. It was not obvious right away, as I was still getting used to being where I was in the first place, yet it was not long before I realized that what I smelled was not some new odor wafting from an unknown source within this indefinably strange place, it was blood and other bodily fluids; and it began to make me sick.

As the battle moved forward, deeper into the glass and steel nightmare of Mechanar, the smell got worse, and the screams of the dying began to build up like an echo that never released. It was like the inside of my skull was the far side of a canyon and the echo got stuck inside my head; this soon took its toll at precisely the wrong time. We had finally found and confronted the monstrosity of metal and flesh known as Capacitus; Cor was rearing back on his bear hind legs, swiping at the huge creature while both Rainfendi and Rhok were throwing all their concentration into keeping Cor alive. Blackfire was attempting to locate a weak spot somewhere in the armor of the beast, when one of his numerous minions came around a pillar and headed for Cor with a pike aimed straight at his back. I threw the frostbolt I was charging and then without any thought, cast an icelance at the minion to get its attention - and missed.

How could I miss?!

I stood stunned as the pike slammed into his back causing Cor to roar in pain and spin on his attacker. One of his fury-induced swipes sent the creature's head clear across the room, blood spraying from the stump in all directions as the body staggered a few steps and fell wetly to the floor. I immediately lost all strength and fell to my knees, retching bile and whatever was in my stomach. A female scream brought my head back up to see the nightmarish image of the druid back in his Tauren form, each of his legs grasped in one of Capacitus' monstrous hands. Rhok and Rainfendi were hurriedly attempting to cast some last minute spell, while Blackfire was racing toward the demon, with what in mind, I could not fathom. My instant reaction was to try and cast another spell to distract or hurt the monster, but I found I just did not have the energy. All of this happened in the seconds before we all watched as Cor, upside down, swung his weapon as hard as he could, catching Capacitus square in the face. Bone crunched, teeth flew, and the scream he let out told that it was the last wound he could sustain. With the last of his rage, he tore Cor completely in half, throwing both in opposite directions and fell with a deafening crash to the floor.

The only sound besides the constant background hum of this place was the quiet sobbing of Blackfire as she kneeled in despair. I heard a roared "NO" off to my left and turned in time to see Rhok in all his orcish fury hurtling at me just before he bowled me over and began throttling me. Acting on pure instinct through both personalities I 'pushed' Rhok off me both with my hands and an arcane explosion, the blast sending him skidding across the floor into Rainfendi, leaving them both in a tangled pile. As I stood, a grey red haze seemed to cloud my vision and an inexplicable rage filled me as I screamed each word, deliberately trying to pronounce them without an accent:

"I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!"

* * *

_**T**_here was a cliff ahead. Jake's vague topographical memory recognized the fissure in the ground – its slope down and the far edge jogging hazy recollections – but could only think of three different locations where he could be. Though it didn't matter much, at least not at that moment, he knew all he should be worrying about was how long it would take the enraged gargoyle to catch up to him, and what he was going to do when that happened. His mind working in panicked overdrive, Jake merged the two thoughts together and formed a desperate plan to solve his gargoyle problem.

_No…_he thought. _I wouldn't be able to pull that off, and even if I did, it's not like a short fall like that is going to do anything to hurt something that can __**fly**__._

"SHHRRIIEEEEK!"

Jake's eyes bulged at the chilling sound. Spinning around, he blindly swung his staff back and forth in a wide arc. Feeling the displaced air of the beating wings on his face, he realized the monster was right there in front of him, and, although it was a stupid creature, it had enough intelligence to learn from its last mistake; it caught Jake's poorly aimed swing right between its teeth. After a few seconds of a frenzied tug-of-war, Jake stopped thinking about everything and just did what came naturally. He wrenched the staff upwards, attempting to jerk the thing closer and attempt another desperate move. The shift in direction caused the monstrosity's head to snap up and back, temporarily confusing it for a few seconds. Jake took advantage of the opportunity, and lunged for the gargoyle's wing.

In the clarity of desperation, time slowed and he could see every minute detail of the appendage. Unlike anything he had seen before, the arm, elbow, and hand looked just like any other, but the bones that supported the large flap of skin making up the thick leathery material were not unlike a bird's. Light and hollow, the bones couldn't have much strength to them. Of course, it was all only an assumption, and with only seconds, he did the first thing he could think of.

Dropping his staff and grabbing the creature's arm just above the wing, Jake spun on his heal as quickly as he could, bracing his feet and crouching slightly. Using the momentum of the spin and bracing the elbow on his shoulder, he tugged down on the gargoyle's arm as hard as he possibly could. Happening so fast and being such an unusual maneuver, all the gargoyle could do was watch and see what his pathetically weak prey hoped to accomplish.

An agonized shriek was accompanied by an unsettling series of snaps and cracks as the creatures arm bent into an unnatural shape and direction. Jake finished the throw and slung the crippled gargoyle into a squirming heap on the ground in front of him. The gargoyle, mewling and shrieking as it writhed in pain, clutched at its broken wing and struggled to get to its feet.

So satisfied with the success of the desperate action, Jake almost let the creature get another hold on him. Wiping the grin off his face, he lifted his robe enough to kick the gargoyle somewhere in its torso, sending it back to the ground. Revulsion and pent up fear and frustration taking over, he continued to kick the writhing gargoyle until he had sent it tumbling off into the fissure. The gargoyle managed to cling to the edge of the cliff with its good arm, trying desperately to pull itself back up. A new source of panic seemed to be driving it to put every last ounce of effort into avoiding the fall.

_It's only a twenty foot drop_, Jake thought, _it's not like it's going to kill him…_Jake picked up his staff and strode quickly over to the struggling gargoyle, striking the hand it was using to cling to the edge of the drop. With a final shriek, the gargoyle tumbled the rest of the twenty feet and hit the ground with a collapsing thud.

He soon realized what had caused such a panic in the creature. Only moments after hitting the ground, seven hideous skulls animated individually by syrupy, gelatinous masses swarmed the broken pile of gargoyle with an impressive speed. After contact with the franticly moving globs, the gargoyle almost instantly dissolved into a mess of greenish gore and clumps of flesh left on a skeletal frame. Jake backed away from the scene, shuddering, as the memory of nightmares he experienced after watching the movie "The Blob" at an early age.

Jake quickly and silently took off in search for a safe area to get his head on straight and hopefully to avoid a fate similar to that of the gargoyle.

His legs seemed to be moving on their own, running without feeling and in a direction unknown to him. He was lost; he had no idea where he was, but he couldn't stop running. It was a mix of fear and adrenaline, both in doses larger than he'd ever experienced before in his life.

Jake finally caught himself, and staggered to a stop. He gasped, recognizing he was out of breath and hadn't even realized it. He'd never felt so alive, but with every passing second he could feel his high fading away as he caught his breath. His logic returned, and he took a moment to think to himself and frowned. _What the hell am I running from?_

Jake shook his head and with it, the last of his thoughts of the experience. He was exhausted, his hand was throbbing (and probably infected), he was acting irrationally, and he needed a place to rest so that he could get his head on straight.

He soon found himself sitting beside a menacing tree with a wicked-looking face that he wasn't sure whether had been carved that way or grown naturally. The face gave the impression of having once been alive, but seemed to be inanimate. Staring off into the distance at nothing in particular, the female mage with a male consciousness became lost in thought.

Unbidden images from his 'normal' life came to the surface and caused an uncharacteristic longing for something as simple as the chair in his room. _From anybody's perspective other than my own, it would look like I had some kind of biological dependency to that chair. It's my cocoon, my shell - it's my God damned chair, and I'm always sitting in it. _He smirked. His life was such a simple thing, mostly free of responsibility; it was fairly sedentary. He did little he didn't want to do, and when he did have to do something, it was usually at his own pace and discretion. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift with an almost dream sequence quality, back to the morning this all began. It had been slightly chilly that day and the clouds cast the usual foreboding over his mood.

* * *

"_**B**_ut I **knew **them! Not just recognized in passing or they looked similar, I knew their names, and on some other level that I can't explain, I knew them."

A look of helpless bewilderment suffused Vyerna's features with such intensity that the young Draenei Mage she was speaking to quickly grabbed a chair and helped her sit down. Pulling up one herself, she sat facing her and took her shaking hands in hers.

"Tell me again of the vision you had before all this occurred, young priestess," she asked, her intonation and lilting accent having a calming effect on the distraught Night Elf. Taking a shuddering breath with amber eyes blinking back tears, Vyerna relayed as much of the vision as she could to her long-time friend. Leaving out no detail and feeling, she included the 'second voice' in her head that she had heard and what she knew about the two Horde interlopers that had suddenly appeared in the quiet town of Goldshire.

Tilting her head with a quizzical look, her glowing blue eyes blinking slowly, Ravenbear sat back in her chair.

"That doesn't make sense," she said almost to herself.

"What doesn't?" Vyerna asked, looking confused.

"Members of the Horde don't run from a fight unless they are severely outnumbered, a trait I respect in them, and they would never call off one of their pets if they were. It is a basic tactic to sacrifice them as a distraction while they escape." She shook her head. "No, something about this is very strange and your vision is definitely tied to this occurrence somehow."

Her eyes became unfocused as she recalled the events with a new perspective, and the Priestess nodded. "I was so caught up in everything that was happening, I never even thought of that. You're right, especially the one I know as Radamantis. His kind, the Forsaken, is well known for their viciousness when they deal with humans in any form. Yet, he was reluctant to approach the battle at all, and I believe he actually advised his Tauren counterpart to flee with him."

They both remained silent for a few moments, pondering the events and their meaning to each of them looking for some solution. Looking up at the blue-skinned Draenei, Vyerna remembered again why she trusted the woman and the members of her race. Even with their alien appearance, the sweeping horns, tail, hooves, and goat-like legs, lent itself to their straightforward and open attitudes of acceptance. Life was a simple thing to them; it just was what it was. It happened the way it happened, and the reasons played themselves out to those that took the time to see them. They never jumped to conclusions about a situation and tried to always see all sides (time permitting, of course) before taking action.

Vyerna was one of the first on Azeroth to meet the recently displaced Draenei when their ship, the_ Exodar_, crashed in the Azuremyst Isles. After much confusion and trepidation on both sides, the new residents of Azeroth agreed to join the forces of the Alliance. The Blood Elves became a part of the faction that the Alliance struggled against, even if they had joined for no other reason than hating their enemies. During this initial meeting, the much younger Vyerna had found a Draenei female among the wreckage, broken and dying, and had used what little abilities she had to save her life and nurse her back to health. During the next few months, the two became fast friends and could hardly be separated. It wasn't long before all the Draenei were called to _Exodar_ and given assignments of their own in the ongoing struggle, and Ravenbear was no exception in that situation. She had chosen the powers of a spell caster and had not fallen short in her superiors' expectations. Over the years they both kept in touch as much as they could, but with a war on and their societies being so different, they barely got to see each other. The visit to the _Exodar_ by Vyerna only reaffirmed the severity of the situation.

Seeing the Night Elf staring at her, Ravenbear mistook the searching look on her face to be an unspoken question.

"Well, regardless of what we can come up with, we are going to need help from a more learned source. I will speak to the Prophet Velen and see what he can make of this. You should also seek out your own superiors and see what you can find. As soon as I know anything, I will contact you." Her face cemented into a confidence that reassured Vyerna and helped to bolster her own confidence.

"Yes, that is a good plan. I will go to seek out Malfurion Stormrage in Moonglade and see what he can make of all this."

The Draenei stood, her robes rustling, and grabbed the staff leaning against the wall. Her eyes swung back to her friend with a look of caring and warmth.

"Travel safe, my friend, and let us hope that we can make some sense of this."

* * *

"_**S**_o most of the House is out on various duties, attempting to make some sort of headway against the Burning Legion and their associates," Morticide explained as they walked though the Drag to the Valley of Wisdom.

"House?" Masharret asked, here eyebrows creased in confusion.

"Yes, the House of Exiled, to which you belong; it is one of the Primary Houses within the Horde. Thrall himself came up with the idea, one where individuals could find a commonality with others of like mind. Each of the Houses takes on a primary goal against the enemy and has their own internal system of government." As he spoke, he gestured nonchalantly with his hands in a very human manner. Then, just as indifferently, he pulled a burrowing insect from his arm and flicked it to the dirt covered street.

Covering her disgust with a cough, Masharret took in her surroundings as Morticide continued. As his voice gargled out more information, she noticed immediately that the buildings weren't as she had remembered them; there seemed to be more of them, compartmentalized upward from the bases of each main building.

_Living quarters_, she realized. _Well that makes sense; they all need somewhere to live._

While scanning the buildings, a sense came over her that she couldn't quite place – a pressure at the back of her skull. It seemed to come from the buildings themselves in a slow pulse that washed over her, a seething frustration that combined with a metallic taste in the back of her mouth. She could almost see a flashing grid of current that ran from building to building, creating a matrix of energy overlay. She envisioned the small park in downtown Vancouver, dwarfed by the Granville Island Hotel behind it, overlapping the clay and wood dwellings in which an entirely fantastical populous dwelled.

_What am I seeing here_? She reflected on the emanations of confusion that seemed to swirl deep inside, as if from a source that was not her own.

It took a few moments before she became aware that the other two had stopped ahead of her and were waiting.

"My apologies," she pronounced with particular care and a slight nod as she gathered her robes and moved to catch up. "Some details are still slow in resurfacing."

Morticide gave a smile. "No apologies necessary, although this isn't a common occurrence; the use of high magics can be a very dangerous and fickle business. It is not unheard of that one could lose certain mental faculties if the conditions are not just right or interrupted at a crucial point."

Shaking her head slightly as she caught up with the pair, Masharret found that her sense of surrealism ebbed slowly the more she was around them.

"What was it you were saying?" She smiled apologetically.

With a smile, one of clear patience, Morticide resumed his stride and diatribe.

"I had begun to list some of the current operations currently in progress. We sent Princess Gasalyn to Lights Hope Chapel in the Eastern Plaguelands to see if she could gather some support from some of the factions there. We have high hopes that the Cenarion Circle will join us as well as the Argent Dawn. With her regal standing and ample conciliatory abilities, I believe Gas will receive good news from that division."

Masharret stopped short almost causing Safia to run into her.

"Gas?! As in Gasbag?"

He chuckled, the sound mimicking the dry rustling of crumpled paper and tin foil.

"Well very few people call her that to her face as she detests the melding of her family name with her proper one, Gasalyn Bageren." The first name was spoken with a soft G, making it sound like Jasalyn. "Hence the name Gasbag; you can see how she could dislike that title, being a diplomat." His knowing grin was meant to be friendly and convey the humor of the joke, but it still just looked ghoulish to Shelly, and as he turned to resume walking she shuddered. "But it is good to see you recognize her; there may be a quicker recovery then you imagine."

"Ja, Marett," Safia pronounced her name with the emphasis on the last syllable, making it sound like her name was something used to hold hair in place. "You not be callin' de princess dat wan she comin'. She bein' royalTAY and be wantin' respect." The last said with a quick, definitive nod.

"I understand; it was just unexpected to hear hi- **her** name and have it mean something." Morticide grunted an affirmative with a nod of his own and continued, motioning for her to follow.

"We sent Nutharen and Radamantis to scout Stormwind and the outlaying provinces for updates on the allied movements. Well, Rad will be doing the scouting as he…"

"…is the rogue," Masharret finished the sentence with a grin spreading across her face. "Yes, I remember him as well. I assume Nutharen's nickname is Nut as well and has a raptor as a pet."

"Ja," Safia chimed in with a snigger. "Oreo, he call 'im. War he got dat name, I be likin' to know."

That statement caused something to stir in the back of Masharret's mind, something insistent, but with no frame of reference other than the name and how she knew it, so she couldn't fathom what it might be.

"An interesting name no doubt," Mort continued. "I have often wondered that myself, Safia. Now, getting back to the house members; the list is extensive, and it would take too long to tell you where they all were and I would have to consult the duty roster for them all anyway. The other important one I do remember though is the group we sent to Mechanar to retrieve a valuable artifact there."

"You mean in Netherstorm?" Masharret shook her head, another of the familiar places from the game made real slamming home the insanity of her situation.

"Is there another? Morticide asked with a hideous grin. "Yes the one in Netherstorm, and hopefully we sent a powerful enough group; the artifact is a very important one and could make all the difference."

"What is it?" she asked hurriedly, curiosity overcoming Masharret's overwhelmed sensibilities.

"The Sun Eater – it is a sword of great power and, in the right hands, can even kill the most powerful demons. With any luck Shmeegun, Rhok, and the others will be able to retrieve it and get back without losing anyone."

Masharret stopped once more; a look of amusement mixed with amazement caused a battle to play itself out under the skin of her face.

"You sent Shmee to Mechanar? Who is the healer?"

"Rainfendi and Rhok both went to augment each other, why?"

"Nothing, just… nothing."

_If Shmee were here right now, he would be giving me the finger_, she thought with a smile.

Another thought occurred to her at that moment, "I'm curious Morticide. I have the ability to summon with help yes?"

"Yes, if you wish to summon someone, we need only get to the circle and cast the spell."

"Circle?"

"Yes, we have three in Orgrimmar and four in the Undercity. I'm not sure how many are in Thunder Bluff as I almost never go there. Do you know, Safia?"

"Dey have four der too, I be tinkin'." Her accent was so thick that Masharret had to concentrate to make out what the tusked female was saying.

"Well, where is the nearest one to here then?"

The Undead warrior motioned vaguely in front of him. "There is one right in Thrall's outer chamber as a matter of fact, which is convenient since that is where we are headed."

"Thrall," Masharret felt a slight panic form in her belly, "why are we going there?"

"It be wer we be getting' all de report from dem dat be out huntin' and such." Safia chimed in as if Masharret should already know this.

"Yes," Morticide nodded as if to himself. "All reports of the progress of what transpires outside these walls comes and goes through the Valley of Wisdom and Grommash Hold. Many people contribute great effort to continually keep us informed and conversely inform others about all that occurs throughout the realms of Durotar, the Eastern kingdoms, and Outland; an intricate network made of many races, including some allied forces." Morticide smiled.

"Do not look so surprised," he responded to Masharret's look of awe. "There are some sympathetic humans left from the Great War who see that working together against a common foe is a more sensible action than all this fighting. They understand that a constant battle only helps the demons in their conquest of Azeroth. The difficulties actually lie with some of our own races; The Burning Blade and others of their ilk who continually try to disrupt and cause general chaos among our ranks are just one of the many obstacles we must face on a day to day basis to keep this all from falling to pieces."

Suddenly, Morticide stopped and stood looking at Masharret almost expectantly.

"What?"

"We are here," he answered simply with a sweep of his boney hand.

Looking up, she saw the familiar buttresses and balustrades of the front of Thrall's fortress. She had been so absorbed with Morticide's monologue that it had been as if a bubble had formed around the three of them that had just dissolved, and the sounds of all the beings coming and going around her broke like a wave crashing on the shore. She swayed slightly on her feet, and Safia put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"You be feelin' ok?" She asked worriedly.

She put a hand to her face. "'Yes, I'm ok; just a bit of vertigo. This has been quite a lot to… remember."

"Are you sure you want to continue with your plan of summoning?" Morticide grated.

"Yes, I'm sure. I believe that if I can talk to one of the others that you have spoken of, it might be just what I need to clear the rest of this up for me and get me back to normal." She kind of laughed at her last statement.

"Wat you be laughin' at?" Safia asked, a quizzical look causing her tusks to protrude more prominently from her jaw.

She shook her head. "Nothing important; I'm just giddy I guess."

_Back to normal_, she grinned. _That has a whole new meaning, now doesn't it_!

"Well, who did you have in mind for the summoning?" Mort asked as they continued up the steps past a myriad of Trolls, Orcs, and Taurens, all fantastically dressed and now part of the 'normal' Masharret had to adjust to.

"I believe that Gas… alyn," she stuttered, catching herself, "would probably be the most logical choice, as her mission wouldn't be put in jeopardy if she left suddenly."

"Good point," Morticide agreed. "And no one else would be put in danger if she left as well. I see your common sense is certainly well intact." He smiled at that last.

"Thank you," she nodded graciously. "Now where do we get this started?"

"Right here," Safia gestured toward a circular depression in the floor ahead. A beautifully woven rug covered the entire circumference of the ring that was two steps below the floor they stood on. The base was dull sepia, interwoven with a cornucopia of vibrant color depicting no particular scene, yet offering a feeling of freedom and a scent of wide open plains.

"How will she know when we are summoning her?"

Morticide tilted his head and sighed with slight exasperation. "She will simply see the gate and us on the other side."

"Oh." Masharret knew that if she could blush at that moment she would be roasting them all from the heat.

"Now just think of Gasalyn, and begin the spell. We will join in as the gate starts to form," Mort assured her.

Masharret began to feel panic again. _Wait; I don't know how to cast any spell_! But a second voice seemed to join with hers almost as soon as the thought finished, and words like spun silk began to issue forth from her. Her movements were not her own as she began to weave and sway, arms upraised, and she could feel the tingle as a glow enveloped her. The pulse and ebb of magic flowing through her body was ecstatic and frightening at the same time. All at once, she knew two things beyond any doubt: the first was that the magic she used drained her of energy, and that she would have to rest after any extensive use; and the second – the more disturbing revelation – was that she was not alone in her body.


	4. Chapter 4

**3**

**Discoveries and Acceptance**

_**T**_he frenzied getaway from Goldshire had finally dulled down to a relaxed stroll as the adrenaline high faded further away with every stride. Harley caught his breath, and Joe let out a long, controlled sigh.

"I think we lost them; they don't seem to be chasing us anymore," said Joe as he picked a few leaves from the kneecap that jutted from his right leg.

"Yeah, I guess they really didn't have much of a reason to. I mean, we were running away **from** town, not towards it. Plus Oreo back there…" Harley turned around and hesitantly patted his pet raptor lightly on the top of his head. The reptile nudged against the comforting hand and cooed affectionately. Harley felt relieved, as if he had expected the raptor to bear his teeth and lash out as he so recently and viciously did.

"How the heck did we get into this mess anyway? I mean how is it that any of this possible?" questioned Harley as he parked his massive body onto a small boulder nearby. Joe plopped himself on the cool ground in the shade of a nearby tree and paused, only to shake his head.

There was a moment of silence between the two, but it seemed to last for hours. Goldshire was a beautiful countryside area. The grass was green, the greenest wild grass either of them had ever seen. The emerald plains seemed to go forever, rolling like a loose but lush carpet over the endless expanse of small tumbling hills that could be seen in every direction. There were trees scattered everywhere; each held its humble canopy only large enough to create a space of shade that would accommodate a perfect sized area for a picnic, or reading a book. The trunks were large, but not too large, and the branches were plenty, as if they were grown with the thought of children wanting to climb them in mind. The sound of a small river or creak could be heard in the distance, and aA small patch of colorful flowers next to the nearest tree was being occupied by a couple of happy butterflies. The sound of a small river or creak could be heard in the distance, and everything was very peaceful.

Harley looked up from the random focus his stare was fixed on, lost in hopeless thought, and changed his expression to something Joe had yet to see on his Tauren features.

"Hey Joe", he verbally nudged. "You hungry at all?"

Joe quickly scanned Harley's stare for a culprit explaining the sudden question, and following his gaze, set his sights on a field of plump, delicious-looking watermelons laid out in neat little rows along old broken splinters of wooden fences. The thought of hunger hadn't passed his mind or his stomach the whole time, yet suddenly, he was absolutely starved. "Hell yeah I'm hungry. Let's go pig out."

Both Joe and Harley had the look of small children as they gazed at the dazzling colors of their sugar-coated ecstasy on the racks and walls of a candy store. Harley plucked a melon from the ground and tapped it lightly with his ear against the side.

"These melons are perfectly ripe!" exclaimed Harley as the hollow vibrations of the melon made him salivate. "I just need a knife or something to-"

SPLAT! Harley felt the weight of the melon shift into two separate directions as he staggered backwards completely off-guard. The melon had been sliced in half, and with impressive accuracy. Harley dropped one side of the melon in his surprise, and Joe caught it just before he flipped his dagger back onto his belt.

"Jesus Christ Joe! You could have cut off one of my fingers there!" shouted Harley as he regained his footing.

"Relax" said Joe, already cutting his half of melon into little bite-sized pieces.

"Relax?!" The Tauren retorted, eyes wide. "Have you ever even **used **a dagger like that before?!"

The question caught Joe a little by surprise. He put a piece of the juicy melon in his mouth, juice dripping out the hole in his cheek, and pondered a minute. "Come to think of it… no, I haven't," said Joe, feeling slightly impressed with himself. Harley grunted off what was left of the frustration and looked at Oreo.

"You want some watermelon Oreo?" he asked the raptor. Oreo just cocked his head.

"I don't think raptors eat watermelon, Harley," said Joe, with his mouth full. "Lemme look in my bag and see if I have any jerky or something for him". ."

Before he could even reach for his bag, Oreo lowered his head and started a low, rumbling growl. Joe and Harley froze, unsure of what the raptor was trying to do. They looked up at each other and then in the direction Oreo was facing.

There was a small man, dressed in a dirty white shirt and stained overalls. He stood beside his cabin, where the rest of his family could be seen peering from the crack of the door he had left open. The man was trying to control his trembling, but it; the effort was futile;, it was obvious that he was horrified by what he saw. Nevertheless, he shakily held a massive double-barrel shotgun with the two intimidating trespassers in his sights.

Harley and Joe froze and stood to face the threatening little man.

"Shit," said Joe. "I guess this farmer isn't too happy about us eating his melons".." Harley glanced at the farmer's wife and children who were trying to remain unseen, but were still curiously peering from the door. "What were we thinking? We just ran up and started eating crops off a farm; I didn't even stop to consider where the farmer would be," Joe went on.

"I think we should just get out of here, we don't wanna cause this guy any trouble," said Harley, still eyeing the farmer's family.

"Cause **him **any trouble? He's the one aiming the shotgun at us".." Joe gestured incredulously.

"U… uden b-bur de mas!" managed the poor trembling farmer. "Ver! Ver mas!" He nudged his gun in a direction away from his farm.

"We'll just be on our way-" Harley started, but stumbled on the slippery watermelon and fell with a grunt. The sudden movement scared the already terrified little man, causing him to jerk his trigger finger. A spray of crude shrapnel liquefied one of the halves of watermelon that lay on the ground next to Harley and Oreo, drenching the ground in a puddle of broken red chunks.

Time slowed into a short series of events that both Harley and Joe would remember for the rest of their lives in gruesome and vivid detail. Oreo's growl went up an octave in pitch, and he began to charge at the surprised farmer. The massive raptor lunged forward and dug his enormous, outstretched talons into the puny man's chest, knocking him over and crushing the bones in his ribcage to pieces. Before the man could even attempt to scream, the raptor swept its head forward with the same motion, its fearsome jaws agape, and with a final SNAP had pressed its teeth into the soft and fragile neck of the broken farmer.

"STOOOP!" bellowed Harley as tears of shock rolled down his face and through the braids of hair on his chin. "OREO! STOP!" In an instant it was over, and for what seemed like an eternity, the raptor stood on top of the man holding his life between his jaws. Oreo did not know what to do; the man he attacked would surely die, but leaving him like this that would make him suffer a horrible and painful death. Harley's sobs caught up with him, and he was unable to say anything further to stop this th e traumatic scene. The man was still alive, but he Harley could only imagine the kind of pain he was in. The family behind the door hadn't peeped. Their eyes were all wide in shock, and their bodies were all frozen in the paralysis of fear and uncertainty.

Oreo made his decision. It would mean disobeying his master, but leaving a living thing this that way would be cruel. With a final motion, the raptor ripped his head upwards, tearing half of the man's neck up with it and opening his jugular vein in gory arterial spray. The little girl behind the door let out a shrilling and uncontrolled scream. The raptor swiftly returned to his master.

"Harley," nudged Joe. "Harley, we need to get out of here".." He futilely tugged at the Tauren statue. Harley wouldn't budge; he couldn't budge; he could only gape. "Harley! We have to go! NOW!" And with a final desperate pull, Harley awoke from the nightmare and slowly treaded off towards the river, leaving the horrible scene and the now fatherless family behind him.

* * *

_**J**_ake wasn't sure of what to make of his situation. He was in the Eastern Plaguelands, that was for sure, but he had no idea which way he was heading or what difference it'd make if he did. _The sun sets in the west, but I don't know what time of the day it is, making it difficult to tell if the sun is rising or setting… and even if I did, I can't see the damned sun through all this hazy mist!_ Jake clenched his fists out of habit, but quickly relieved his hands in reaction to his still unfamiliar, claw-like fingers digging into his palms. _This is so frustrating! I have no idea what is going on!_

After many moments of walking in an unknown direction in tense silence, Jake began to notice familiar glimpses of energy. Nothing was even remotely close to his location, but off in the distance on all sides he could feel the presence of shadowy magic similar to that of his wand. Jake would have never thought his sense of this energy to be a part of the magely arsenal that the casters of World of Warcraft would be equipped with. _Those energies must be the undead of this place… The scourge…_Jake pondered his thought for a moment. _Well, at least now I know where NOT to go. H_e shrugged as he so often did to physically gesture to his own thoughts.

As he searched around in attempt to pick a clear direction, Jake pondered the situation a little more carefully. He was surprised that after being in the Eastern Plaguelands for so long, he had not encountered many undead (with the exception of the gargoyle, of course). _I must be on the eastern side then… The Light's Hope Chapel should be close to my location. I still don't know east from west out here, but I bet if I concentrate I'll be able to find the chapel by heading in the direction opposite of the biggest concentration of shadowy energies out here._He looked around, trying to point out each individual dark life-force, but it all appeared as a big haze of shadows and energy. _Concentrate__,_ he told himself, not knowing exactly **how** to concentrate on such an unfamiliar sense. He stopped looking and closed his eyes completely. After what seemed to be minutes of silent frustration, the vague auras in the distance began to secede and become individuals. At the same time, he began to feel a new presence of energy; the most powerful feeling his new sense had experienced in fact, and it was much closer than the surrounding auras.

Distracted by this new power, Jake opened his eyes and looked around to see if anyone or anything was approaching. After a few moments of stupefied silence, he shook his head and thought of what he had just discovered. _There seem to be seven or eight groups of undead in that direction,_he looked shortly to his left, _which means the chapel should be somewhere in THAT direction. _He turned his body around to the right and made out a very faint light in the distance. Jake let out a relieved sigh and allowed himself to smile.

As he picked up the pace, finally walking in a guided direction, Jake couldn't shake off the feeling he had experienced while he was concentrating. Ever since he felt that power, he hadn't stopped noticing it. For him to not notice it beforehand was a little peculiar. As he thought about it, it seemed to be not only the most powerful energy he had felt, but an entirely different energy unlike the shadows he'd now become familiar with in the Eastern Plaguelands. No matter how far he distanced himself from the location, the energy seemed to follow him. Jake became a little frustrated and stopped walking to think of what the hell would be giving off such an awesome power.

With a lucid smack of realization, Jake nearly fell over as he came to the obvious conclusion that **he** was the power. As a mage, he was not capable of harnessing the essences of shadow and light, the only two energies that had been introduced to his senses, so he hadn't noticed it until he had really opened his mind through concentration. After he was aware of his own power, he found that the more he searched for it, the stronger his energy became. He concentrated like he did before by closing his eyes, but this time he thought only of his own power; he was not searching for anything in the distance.

There was an explosive increase in the amount of energy he was feeling; all throughout his body he could feel a warm and hectic movement, as if a violent wind were passing through his body. Despite the warm feeling this energy gave on the inside, Jake began to feel a sharp icy chill on the outside of his body- his hands in particular. He opened his eyes slowly, careful to not break his concentration, to see his hands collecting the frozen water particles that made up the cool hazy mist of a nearby pocket of fog.

_This is amazing…_ Jake couldn't contain his shock as his robes became weightless in a slight updraft that he was creating. A light-blue glow began to emanate from his outstretched fingers, and he couldn't tell if they were actually glowing or if it was his energy sense that was picking it up. Jake stopped trying to guess and concentrated on it, whatever it was. The glow quickly became brighter, until it was an intense white. Jake couldn't even see his hands, and despite the shock of his astonishment, he realized that he could no longer feel them as well, as they'd been completely numbed by the cold.

"Ver das loden!" cried a hearty voice in the distance. Jake turned his attention from the spectacular scene he was creating to the direction of the voice. A grizzly, armor-clad human was standing only twenty yards away with look of anxious panic on his face. "Suedan klat ber uden vel codear slad! Vo der, ver das loden!" he cried, nervously gripping his freakishly oversized battle-axe. Jake turned a little to face him, still experimentally charging his newfound power.

_What, is he talking to me in Swedish?_ Jake looked at him, perplexed.

After a short couple of seconds, the suspicious human grunted as he lifted his axe into an offensive stance and bellowed, "BES DO MAJAS!" The warrior began to charge, and time seemed to stop. The scene was so familiar. Jake knew what to do, but he didn't even begin to know how to do it. He reflexively wanted to move his hands upwards and point his palm towards the sky, as if he had some kind of muscle memory from doing this so many times before. His mind took over and fought the reflex with a reflex of its own, which was to point his hand at the oncoming foe. It was so awkward, and his choice to point his hand towards the enemy didn't feel right at all, however the warrior was only feet away and Jake had no time to react as he relentlessly charged forward.

He released. A cold that no person who lived in the sunny state of California could ever comprehend overcame every one of his senses, as a violent torrent of foggy ice particles rushed from his hand – his arm – his whole body in the direction he was facing. Jake opened his eyes to find that the oncoming bull had been stopped in his tracks, partially encased in a compacted icy prison. He grunted and struggled to free himself, but it was hopeless.

"Codear!" another voice said from the direction this hard-headed warrior came from. "Stop!" it repeated in a language he could understand. Jake looked over the shoulder of his popsicle friend to see a mounted knight bearing a familiar symbol on his tabard approaching at great haste. "What is the meaning of this?!" he said, looking furiously at the scene. The symbol on his tabard was a circle surrounded by eight triangles all pointing outward, making an octagonal symmetrical design. He recognized the symbol to be the mark of the Argent Dawn, a faction that branched from the Scarlet Crusade. Both factions sought to rid the world of threats such as the Scourge and the Burning Legion, but the Argent Dawn did not share the same fanaticism and unrelated beliefs that Scarlet Crusade so zealously followed.

Jake, dumbstruck, was speechless and only managed to stutter. The guard frowned and turned to look at the warrior. "Merjas goiben lo?" The warrior accusingly gestured at Jake while angrily sputtering out a series of syllables he couldn't understand.

_What language are these people speaking?_

After trading a few sentences and erratic arm gestures, the guard turned to face Jake once again. "Are you ready to speak now?" Jake looked at the guard for a moment, and then blinked his eyes a few times.

"He just sort of came after me. I didn't really know how to react". The guard looked at the feet of the warrior, and then back up at his face. He reached over and pulled the warrior on the arm, easily freeing him from the melting bulge of ice that once encased him.

"Well, from what I gather, it was a misunderstanding. He says that he saw you charging a frost bolt and figured you were going to attack him, but from the looks of it you used a defensive spell and neither of you were harmed, so I'll let you both off the hook." He shrugged and continued to explain to the warrior in their strange language.

_A defensive spell?__A frost nova… That's why it felt so strange._He figured that a frost nova would be cast with the hand overhead to create a sort of area-of-effect range for the spell to take its toll, trapping anything within a given radius allowing the caster to keep a distance from his attacker. Jake had accidentally cast a directional frost nova.

"You're off the hook, mage, but I still want to keep an eye on you. I want you both to return with me to the Lights Hope Chapel so that we can settle this and any differences that might cause future confrontations such as this one."

Jake obediently followed the guard with the hot-headed warrior following closely behind, muttering incomprehensible things under his breath and making faces at Jake. _What an idiot…_

As the fog cleared, Jake could make out a vaguely familiar scene. Dozens of guards patrolled a perimeter around a small church that seemed too humble to be deserving of all this attention. The place was occupied by humanoids of almost every shape and color; dwarves, humans, Tauren, Orcs, night elves, and even a few undead stood around wearing tabards proclaiming their membership of the Argent Dawn, the Scarlet Crusade, the Earthen Ring, or the Cenarion Circle – each making business with another from their faction. Jake's head was spinning a little, and he felt himself drifting from where he stood far away to another distant realm. A voice calling a familiar name brought him back to reality.

"Gas!" called the casual voice. "Gasalyn Bageren! How's that collection of power crystals coming along?" Jake stared blankly at the man, not really knowing how to react. His tabard announced that he was a member of the Argent Dawn.

"You _know _this mage?" asked the guard that had been ushering him to this small unorthodox sanctuary.

"By the light… Tom, don't you recognize her? It's Gasalyn!" Hearing the name pronounced with a soft 'G', and having never heard the name Gasalyn, Jake stood confused. The stocky-looking human had used his short nickname 'Gas' first, pronouncing it with a hard 'G.' Why, he did not know. With all that had happened up to that point, he realized he didn't currently have the stamina to really give a damn.

"She hasn't been active in our efforts lately, but back in the day she made quite a name for herself! She has a great reputation here and holds a solid standing as a trusted member of the Argent Dawn." He finished with a sharp nod.

The guard looked Jake up and down a few times and paused to think, stroking his chin slightly. Finally, he muttered, "Yeah, she does look pretty familiar. You used to be a regular here." He turned to face the other man "Would you mind looking after her for a bit? I'm going to have a chat with the persistent gentleman behind me inside the chapel." The man looked over the guard's shoulder to see who he was referring to, and briefly caught the sardonic faces the warrior was now trying to mask with quick but hoarse cough.

"Getting into trouble again, eh? What'd you do now, you ol' gasbag? You didn't go out chain-polymorphing like last time, did you?" the man said, nudging Jake with a sly grin on his face. Jake let out a quiet but apathetic chuckle with a grin that said, "Ha-ha! Good one!" to the human but really meant, "Shut the hell up and get over yourself".

The other guard shook his head and started heading for the chapel steps. He grabbed the warrior who had attempted to assault Jake, jerking him from his egotistic stance of false-tedium like a dog on a leash, and to help the analogy, the brute yelped in surprise, causing a slight smirk to tug at Jakes lip.

"So what brings you to the Plaguelands this time around, Gas?" asked the man. Jake looked at him for what seemed to be several minutes of very uncomfortable silence.

He realized he couldn't feign his recognition of the man any longer, so he broke the tension and asked rather rudely, "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

The man looked taken aback, almost hurt. "You… don't remember me? Gas, we've been friends for years! It's me! Duke Nicholas!" There was another uncomfortable moment of silence and he raised his hands, palms up in helplessness. "Duke Nicholas Zverenhoff!" he added, as if it would trigger something.

"I'm… sorry… I haven't been able to remember much of … anything lately… I think I hit my head on something ."

And with that statement, he zoned out again. Jake was daydreaming of another setting – a dimly lit room filled with blurry figures of what he could make out as busy bustling populace walking in and out of doors and chatting eagerly with supposed colleagues. It contrasted from the three more crystalline figures standing idly, but expectantly, in the middle of a cleared circular area in the center of the room.

"Gas?"

Jake jumped. "Whoa… what happened?" Nicholas hesitated, and looked carefully at Jakes expression with a serious look of concern on his face.

"Gas, are you feeling alright?"

"I… just sort of… zoned out," he managed. Jake knew that he had a wandering attention span, but he would never have blanked out so daftly, especially in the middle of such an awkward conversation.

"I think I'll have a talk with Rimblat, I'm sure he'll know what to make of this." Jake watched the confused Duke run over and begin conversing franticly to a hulking Tauren. It was the first time Jake had seen a real-life Tauren (as far as that statement goes realistically). He was fascinated and continued to observe the impressive form of the man-bovine. He was heavily outfitted in shamanistic-looking clothing and bore the mark of the Earthen Ring on his tabard. He seemed to be paired up with an unfeasibly beautiful night elf woman, who he noted was a member of the Cenarion Circle.

_A Tauren and a night elf, eh?_

"What's the meaning of this? Scandalous, undead scum in the midst of our sanctuary?" said a high squeaky voice from behind. Before any inappropriate jokes came to mind, Jake turned around to face whoever made the comment, only to find a bald, brawny-looking man staring off into the distance, who had taken no notice that he was there.

"Down here," said the same shrill voice. Jake glanced towards his feet and almost jumped. There was a tiny, pink-haired woman scowling up at him and looking very insulted; she couldn't have been more than two-feet tall.

"Oh," she scoffed. "A forsaken. Why, the Argent Dawn accepts help from the likes of _your kind _is beyond me. It's almost blasphemous, if I do say so myself."

Jake frowned, looking at the diminutive human. Dressed in miniature plate mail and carrying what he identified as a mace, he recognized her as being one of the allied races called Gnomes. Most of the race was recognized as having fully developed, if miniaturized versions of an adult human body with facial features of almost angelic children. Their innocent faces gave them a deceptive quality of being harmless, which Jake knew to be very much not the case. Their reputation in the game had become one that mixed humiliation with loathing. Seeing the reality of the particular one before him, he realized that even for being a gnome, she was hideous.

"Interesting choice of hair color… What's your name, pipsqueak ?" The scowl intensified in response to the nickname.

"My name is Betina Bigglezink, and this is my **natural** hair color!" she spewed, followed by an annoyed grunt.

"Ouch… you must have been irritable from the start then, especially with a name like **that**," said Jake, Barely managing to maintain a neutral expression. Betina gritted her teeth, apparently making a growling noise. Or, at least, that's what Jake assumed, as it sounded more like one of those scared little dogs you see in glass cases at a pet shop. The idea of being potentially intimidated by a gnome of this stature almost caused him to burst out laughing.

Just as she was reaching for the gnome-sized mace at her belt, Duke Nicholas called Jake over to join the conversation he was having with Rimblat.

And then, it happened again, the same image as before, but everything was crystal clear. He could make out the three figures standing in the center of the room. Two undead and what he recognized as a female troll were staring back at him intently. He saw a blur as he faintly made out the faces of the three, and realized that one of the two undead was talking. He heard words from a very deep and very agitated voice. "Accept the portal! Accept the portal, Gasalyn!"

"Gas!"

He was back at the chapel, with a less-confused looking Duke Nicholas waving his hand in Jake's face.

"There you are. Explain what you're seeing in these daydreams to my friend Rimblat here. He's anxious to know the details, and he's pretty sure he knows what the problem is."

Jake looked at the Tauren, who was patiently awaiting his response. Behind him he could see Betina scowling menacingly in his direction, tapping her foot with her arms crossed. _God I hate gnomes…_

"I, uh…" He cleared his throat, "Well, I see an orange-shaded room with lots of people, and there are three of them looking at me telling me to … accept the portal…"

The Tauren smiled and let out a little chuckle. "Gasalyn, your friends are trying to summon you in Orgrimmar. You need to stop ignoring the message and to simply let it happen." Jake stared blankly._ Summon me? Friends in Orgrimmar?_

With a rush of excitement, the thought of the others he was with before all of this started came to mind. _Could they all be in Orgrimmar waiting for me?_

Once again, the scene was as clear as reality. The other undead was speaking to him instead, and although the female voice was unfamiliar, Jake recognized the very slight accent behind it. "Jake, accept the damned portal!" it blurted, almost desperately.

Jake opened his eyes (which he hadn't realized were closed), and felt the weight of the mental intrusion lift and take the form of a spectacular distortion of the space before him. It was as if somebody had taken a quick picture of the scene in front of him and was stretching it outwards, warping it until it finally tore. Through this tear in the space in front of him, Jake made out the setting that was in his head, and with it, the relieved expressions of its three mysterious inhabitants.

The female of the undead plopped to the ground, still conscious but only barely, gasping for breath as if she'd just run a few marathons.

"Christ, Gas, do you know how **hard **it is to open a portal like that? I had to make four of those! Four frickin' summoning portals before you finally-" She caught her breath and just sat there for a moment, trying to calm down.

Jake should have felt embarrassed or ashamed, but neither of the two emotions came through, as they were blocked by his fascination with the renegade use of the laws of time, space, and physics. He paced around the portal gate, inquisitively noting how the circle of distortion followed his perspective at whatever angle he held his line of sight at.

"Come on, Gasalyn, it's tedious enough that we had to summon you four times before you finally accepted our hailing," said the deeper voice. "Please, waste no more time in going through the portal; we can finish business with the Argent Dawn and the Brotherhood of Light at a later date."

Jake looked helplessly at Nicholas and Rimblat, expecting some kind of instruction on how to progress. Rimblat simply pushed his hand forward, ushering Jake to walk through the portal. "Go on, don't keep them waiting," he said.

Jake gulped and stepped closer to the portal. He held out his hand, hesitantly testing the viscosity, if any, of the material. There was a slight tension that was broken around his arm as it felt its way through two dimensions; similar to the feeling of being half submerged in a pool of water. He held his breath and walked into the portal.

As he faded from view, a set of floating red eyes flashed brightly from behind the Tauren and those gathered around him. With an almost inaudible hiss, the eyes dimmed and quickly headed off into the wilds of the Plaguelands.

Without any time passing, other than that of stepping from one room to another; Jake was in an entirely different setting. The muffled sound of a restless city was audible through the walls of the room. The setting sun shone a glare of beautiful warm colors just over the massive stone valley walls of the city limits, its rays peering through the door-less archway into the building he had been summoned. The rancid stench of death that he had finally begun to tolerate in the Plaguelands had vanished, with the exception of the faint scent he/she and the two other undead emanated.

Masharret, the only one of the trio understanding Gasalyn's perplexed astonishment, put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Welcome to Orgrimmar."

* * *

_**H**_ours had gone by as they walked directionless; every mile they put behind them was another measure of distance from the life they had known. Nutharen was so lost in thought he almost didn't hear Radamantis' question. He turned to face Rad with a quizzical look on his face, "Huh, wuzzat?"

"I asked if you had any food in that backpack you're carrying. I'm starting to get hungry again, and I don't want to try scouting for anything after what happened last time."

"Yeah," the huge Tauren sighed. "I- I mean no… I don't know."

"Well, let's find out shall we?"

"Sure," he replied listlessly and shrugged off the backpack as he sat down.

Oreo tentatively sidled up against his master and carefully nuzzled his hand. Nutharen started slightly at the touch of the scaly head but reassuringly petted his faithful pet.

"Hey there, big guy. I bet you're hungry too. Let's see if there is anything in here for you as well." He started to unclasp the oversized pack as Rad flopped down next to them and pulled off his boots.

"Damn, this walking is killing me…" He paused for a moment and then began to snicker, a sound which caused chills to race up Nutharen's' spine. He shuddered slightly and turned an annoyed look on the diminutive humanoid.

"What's so funny?"

"Killing me…" That was all he got out before he began to roll on the ground holding his sides and rocking in inhuman laughter.

A smile crept onto the bovine features, and then the humor of the paradoxical statement became fully apparent and they were soon both roaring with laughter while a confused reptile looked on with dubious curiosity.

After a few minutes they were wiping tears from their eyes and catching their breaths lying on their backs.

"Oh man, I needed that," Nutharen rumbled with a sigh.

"Yeah, me too, I guess," Rad replied, sitting up. "Now, let's see what's in that pack of yours."

"Right." The big humanoid pulled the pack closer as he swung himself up into a sitting position and began to rummage through it. He started pulling things out and laying them beside him, naming them off as he went.

"Let's see, looks like bandages, those ought to come in handy, um… berries of some kind…" He held the berries out to the curious raptor who sniffed at them and snorted, blowing them out of his hand.

"Didn't think so, but figured I'd try," he said with a grin, and Rad chuckled with a rasp.

"Um, this looks like some kind of Ore," he said with recognition in his voice as he pulled out a chuck of smooth dark stone that had a bluish/black tint to it.

"Adamantite?" Rad questioned as he reached for the stone being handed to him.

"Not sure, actually. I can sort of remember what it's supposed to look like, but I also have this feeling like I know exactly what it is too."

Rad looked up at him with a dawning comprehension in his eyes.

"Hey, yeah, now that you mention it, I've had that same feeling too. Like when I was using the blade to cut the watermelon, it felt natural, like I had been using a weapon for years."

"Yeah," Nutharen said hesitantly. "You know… even when Oreo was… well when what happened at the farm was going on, it felt wrong, but familiar, like he had always done that for me, and it was what was supposed to happen."

He paused for a few minutes, and Rad knew anything he said would be useless at that moment, so kept quiet.

The Tauren shook his horned head angrily as a tear slid down his furred snout.

"I've never seen anyone killed before," the words seemed to tumble out in a rush. "I mean not, in real life anyway. I've thought at times I could do it if I had to, you know, to protect someone or if they deserved it for some reason or if I was angry enough." He paused again, looking at the horned and scaly beast that was looking back at him with an almost forlorn look.

Then his head swung back to look at Rad, a fierce look in his eyes and when he spoke again, there was an edge to his voice that sounded nothing like the Harley that Joe had known for years.

"The human deserved it," he rumbled. "A stupid and cowardly lot they are, killing anything they don't understand. Would that I had been in control, they all would have perished." He punctuated this statement by slamming his fist into the soft ground leaving a sizable hole. Sensing his master's anger, the raptor backed up a step and lowered its head, bearing its teeth with a low growl, and Rad leapt to his feet with a cry of astonishment.

"Harley!" he shouted in disbelief.

The Tauren grabbed his head, and a momentary internal struggle could almost be seen in his widened eyes. Then, just as suddenly, he was looking at Rad in confusion and dismay.

"Wh- what was that?!" His voice trembled slightly.

Oreo took a tentative step forward and sniffed the frightened face of his owner.

Rad tilted his head, a cagey look on his face. "What do you remember?"

"I'm not sure," he paused and rubbed his eyes. "And for a moment there, I was seeing things from a distance, I think. And I heard what I said, but that wasn't me, or at least not **Harley** me." He looked up at Rad with a confused look as the undead rogue stared back with a noncommittal nod.

Nutharen, and he had begun to think of himself from that perspective, shook his head muttering, "Whatever, let's figure that out later." He began to rummage through the pack some more and found a hock of meat that he offered to Oreo. The reptilian predator eagerly grabbed the chunk of protein, set it on the ground and used one of his vicious looking claws to hold it down while he tore off bite sized portions to gulp down.

"Well, he certainly looks happier," Rad observed.

"Yeah, he does… Have you noticed that he seems to almost understand us?"

Rad reached up and scratched his non-existent stubble out of habit. "Hmm, now that you mention it, he does seem to have a bit more intelligence that you would think a prehistoric dinosaur should have. Then again, raptors were supposed to be pack hunters using tactics and outsmarting their prey. Who knows, it's not like we have anything to compare him too." He shrugged and raised his eyebrows with a look of concession.

"Good point. Hey…" the Taurens' voice took on a tone of curious wonder as he stopped rummaging through the pack and started to pull something out.

"What?" Rads' curiosity piqued, and he moved closer to see Nutharen hold up a miniature replica of a Kodo.

Known for their great size and stamina, the Kodo is the favored beast of burden used by the Taurens. Resembling a cross between a hippopotamus and a rhino with various markings ranging from brown with grey blotches to green and sometimes black, the Taurens mainly use the thick-legged beast as pack animals and mounts. When one of the rarer Black Kodos are born, they are trained from birth to be battle mounts. Having a natural genetic ability to be faster and more stable in battle, they are coveted by every race in the horde and are very valuable.

"Man, I could really use my mount right about now," Nutharen sighed.

Then, with an astonished cry he dropped the small statue to the ground and leapt to his feet, causing the raptor to forget its meal and bark in alarm. Rad also jumped back in confusion shouting, "What, what is it?!"

"It- it moved!" Nutharen stuttered in shock.

Then in a matter of seconds, the miniature statue had grown to the size of Volkswagen beetle, and standing before them was a fully grown black Kodo in full battle armor. A set of drums sat just forward and on either side of the hind hips, behind the saddle where some riders would pound out a battle call during wartime. The massive creature shook itself mightily, as if from a long sleep and chuffed at Nutharen eagerly.

"Good God…" The Tauren whispered in awe and looked over at Radamantis, who was staring in disbelief with his jaw hanging open almost too wide, unable to say anything.

"Careful Rad," Nut chided. "Your jaw is gonna fall off if you leave it open for too long."

Snapping his jaw shut and blinking rapidly, the diminutive rogue looked at his friend for a moment, then quickly un-shouldered his own pack and began to tear through it with abandon.

"HAH!" he cried in triumph as he held up a similar statue, his a white wolf.

"My friend," he grinned manically. "We are in business."

* * *

"_**W**_hat do you mean you're not supposed to be here?!" The massive Orc jumped up with a look of distaste and rage contorting his already horrific visage and making him even more intimidating.

"You were the one that organized this run in the first place!" Blackfire chimed in with her voice musical in disbelief.

With my brief spout of rage passed, I knew I had to think fast. There was no way I could explain what had happened in any way that would make sense to them, but I had the feeling I needed to be very convincing with the way they were brandishing their weapons. Without warning, my mouth started speaking with I voice I didn't know.

"We are all here for da same reason, mon. An' we are all affected by Cor's death da same wey." My hands went up in a placating gesture. "I know what I be sayin, and it be wrong; what I meant to be sayin was we shouldn't have to be workin so hard."

At that, Ravenfire's little head tilted, elongated ears dipping to the side, and one feathery eyebrow arched.

"The Suneater be in Pathaleon's chamber yes?"

Even Rhok seemed to have set aside his anger momentarily, his curiosity piqued as he nodded an affirmative.

"An' that chamber be upstairs at the end of the long corridor, yes?" my mouth continued as my head swiveled to look at the diminutive elf who nodded in agreement.

"Then let's be workin' smarter. Blackfire, you bein' all sneaky and makin' your wey to his chamber, locate dat Suneater an' be ready to grab it when you see us runnin to ya."

"Running?!" the gravelly voice of Rainfendi scraped its way through my ears.

"Yes runnin'." My tuskes bobbed with a nod.

"And what will we be running from, Shmee?" Rhok asked a grin slowly forming. "This sounds like one of your crazy plans."

"Dis be a speed run, so you be makin' sure dose stubby little Orc legs be keepin' up," my mouth, still not in my control, answered with a grin. "Here's what we be doin'; once we get up dat lift der I be Icin' down wit' me frost nova while Rhok be puttin his head down to slow what I don't stop. Rain, you be shieldin yourself, and Rhok and I be makin' our own shield.

"What about Nethermancer Sepethrea?!" Rainfendi asked incredulously.

"Dat bitch be too arrogant. She'll not be leavin' her little dais unless she be provoked."

Rhok rumbled out a chuckle at that and swung his clawed weapon a few times with a nod. "Alright, he growled, let's do this."

I watched as Blackfire, a last nod of her head and a wicked grin on her lips, faded from view and headed to the lift. Rhok and Rainfendi strode toward a selfsame elevator as the voice previously coming from my mouth sounded in my head.

_You can be thankin' me later for savin' you ass. For now, get movin' and be keepin' mine friends safe._ With a shake of my misshapen head and a feeling of unreality, I strode off after the others.

As soon as the lift hit the top, we all took off at a dead run. Rainfendi threw a glimmering pale shield up around Rhok and herself, and with a flick of my own wrist, a glistening icy barrier sprang up around me as well. Seconds after our arrival, Blood Elves dressed in red and gold robes, armor, and huge humanoid mechanical automatons scrambled at our approach. One of the female elves was gesticulating wildly and barking out words in a language I didn't understand to procure a blue glow around her hands. Even though the words were foreign to me, I still recognized casting when I saw it. I (or Shmeegun) spat out the words to a counter spell, shutting her down in mid-cast. Howling in rage, she drew a dagger and joined the mass of assailants headed our way. Waiting until the last possible moment, I threw my hands forward with a shout, and in an instant all our attackers' feet and legs were encased in i ce . Just before the corner, I caught a glimpse of Sepethrea in all her horrific splendor on her dais, and saw that Shmee had been correct as she threw me a contemptuous sneer and turned away.

Turning the corner at a near sprint, Rhok was in the lead with Rainfendi a close second. There were four more Blood Elves in red and gold about twenty yards in, and the closest one started casting, an action the charging Orc brought to a bloody end with a swipe of his claw. I countered the other caster as I brought up the rear and encased them in ice as I passed. Not much further along the passage, one of the massive automatons came to life and alerted three more of the beautiful but deadly Elves. As they came up behind the mechanical goliath, Rhok roared and slammed as hard as his three hundred and fifty pounds would allow into the leg of the golem, momentarily stunning all of his opponents with his ferocity. The outcome of his seemingly crazy maneuver was exactly what the green-skinned fury had hoped for as the l umbering machine toppled off balance, falling backward and crushing two of the much smaller Blood Elves, killing them instantly. The third was too stunned to do anything but stand and stare as we bolted past into the chamber beyond.

Rounded into a cylindrical shape, the large chamber had clear crystal floors that joined with the quartz-looking walls extending upward and seamlessly flowed into a coned ceiling. At its center stood Pathaleon, a male Blood Elf. His build was stockier then most of his race, and his gold and red robes were a tight fit over his bulky frame; his build made the staff he was carrying look small in his hands. Eyes seething, he turned at our less than stealthy approach.

"How dare you disturb my calculations?!" his voice boomed off the multifaceted walls. Right then, a thought I had spoken aloud many times while playing the game came to mind as I cast a quick but devastating blast of fire directly in his face. _Gods, would you just shut up_!

The intense heat of the blast singed the hair and skin on his face and head, causing him to quickly squeeze his eyes, shout, and turn away.

"Now, Blackfire!" Rhok bellowed.

The exit to the left was a door made of crystal and steel, its appearance belying its strength. The slight form of the rogue appeared in front of it with a massive red and black sword in hand. Leaning the weapon against the door she deftly worked the opening mechanism just before Rhok plowed into it, swinging it wide for our escape. As soon as we were out, the Orc turned and applied his straining bulk to slam it closed.

"Shmee… quick… portal..." he gasped.

"Where?!" I gasped back trying to catch my breath.

"Shattrath," he grunted and coughed.

Crouching and feeling the all too familiar glow surround me as I summoned a portal to transport us to the safe haven that resided in Outland, I spoke quietly to the other resident in my head.

"We need to talk," I murmured.

_Ya, mon. We do._


	5. Chapter 5

**4**

**Truths and Understanding**

_**V**_yerna climbed off the griffon as it riffled its feathers with a look back at its Elvin passenger and squawked. Smiling, she gave its neck a scratch of thanks for the ride and waved at the griffon master Faustron. She then headed north up the road toward the shrine of Remulos. Behind her, she could hear the muted howls of the Timbermaw in their hallowed caves. The tribe of bear-like creatures had been the keepers of the land route into Moonglade for centuries. A fiercely loyal people led by their albino white chief, Goin One-eye , they had no affiliation with either the Horde or the Alliance; rather, they were loyal to those who proved themselves trustworthy to the tribe alone.

As she continued on, her thoughts focused more on the one she came to see, Malfurion Stormrage. A legend among the Night Elves, the Druid had been at the forefront of the third war. His role during the War of the Ancients with the loss of his beloved Tirande Whisperwind had become the bedtime stories of many Night Elf children. Furion, as he was known, and his Druids of the Claw had been a powerful force brought against the Burning Legion, and at the climax of the battle the ancient Night Elf was instrumental in the destruction of Archimonde, one of the lieutenants of Sargeras. Yet, for all his legendary status and millennia of life, most of those that found themselves in his presence soon realized that he was a simple being of simple pleasures. His caring and calm demeanor quickly put all around him at ease and revealed how his title "Shan'do," or honored teacher, was well earned. A fatherly figure, he engendered such a sense of tranquility in his visitors that made it easy to discuss anything with him. The young priestess had only heard him speak at a gathering during a festival in recent months, but the memory of his voice and his reputation kept her anxiety of meeting him face to face for the first time at a minimum.

As she neared his residence, a picture of the ancient druid formed in her mind, his rugged features perfectly outlined with the bluish tinted facial hair and brought together with the smoky green eyes had an unexpected effect; the other voice she had heard in Goldshire spoke.

_I remember him; he's related to Illidan, isn't he?_

She gasped at the sudden intrusion into her thoughts and looked around wildly. "Who are you?!" she whispered hoarsely.

_I think I'm you,_ the voice said with a hint of helpless confusion, _but not in the way you think. My name, if I haven't completely lost my mind, is Tanya._

Vyerna placed her hand on her forehead, her brow furrowed. "What are you doing in my mind? Are you a priest of the Horde?!" Her whisper grew fiercer with the last question.

_Ah, not exactly._ The voice paused for a moment, and the juvenile Night Elf could feel a cascade of turbulent emotions that were not hers pass through her.

_Look, if it makes you feel any better, I have no idea what's going on either. So let's just try to relax, and you go see this Stormfront guy…_

"Stormrage," she hissed. "Malfurion Stormrage, an ancient and powerful druid and one of the most respected Night Elves in all of Azeroth!"

_My apologies_, she said with deliberate slowness and frustration._Let's go see him and hopefully he can make some sense of what is going on._

Vyerna sighed, closing her eyes. "My apologies as well, Tan-ya," she replied quietly stumbling over the unfamiliar name. "You did not deserve that outburst." Then she laughed lightly and shook her head in wonderment.

_What's so funny?_

"The fact that I am apologizing to a voice in my head is hard for me to accept," she answered still looking around for a physical entity to put to this voice that she knew wouldn't be there.

_The fact that I __**am **__a voice in your head isn't doing much for my sanity either,_ Tanya spoke grimly. _By the way, I don't think you actually have to speak out loud for me to hear you. _

_You mean like this?_ Vyerna thought tentatively, testing out the communication.

_Yeah that's better; at least this way if someone is around, you won't look like you're talking to yourself for no reason._

Vyerna smiled at the thought. _Well most already think I am a little unstable with the visions I see. A bit of idle chatter shouldn't cause too much of a reaction._

_Better safe than sorry, right?_

The Priestess tilted her head, her ears dipping to one side as a quizzical look settled in.

_That is a very interesting saying, Tan-ya._

_It's quite common where I come from._

_Where you… _

_Wait,_she interrupted to forestall the obvious tirade of questions she knew would only confuse the situation at hand,_let's go see this druid of yours and see what he can tell us about this. We'll worry about the rest later._

_Yes, you'r e right. _The Night Elf sighed and started forward again toward the abode of the primordial Druid_. But I hope we have time later to discuss this further._

_So do I__, _Tanya replied almost to herself.

It wasn't much further before Vyerna found herself before the ornately worked wooden door of Malfurion's home, and with deep breath of resolve, she lightly knocked her staff against the door and waited. After a few moments, she heard the shuffle of feet on the other side, and the door smoothly opened revealing Stormrage himself. His sheer presence was enough to cause a vision to crash in on the psyche of the young priestess with violent abandon. She saw fractured images of humans and demons split and molded together across doorways of ethereal light. A battle raged in the background with no clear lines or sides, and a massive shadow crept over the entire scene. Surrounding and infusing the entire vision was a vaporous mist with chaotic threads of silky light that flashed randomly, while a deep and resonant laughter, most assuredly demonic, cascaded across the void; and just as it reached its climax a small voice seemed to speak right into her ear.

_**The devil is in exile, and exile is in the devil.**_

Grabbing her head, a scream burst past her lips as one echoed in her head from Tanya, and she was dimly aware that Malfurion reached out to catch her as she fell.

* * *

_**J**_ake stood up, quickly gazing at his surroundings in awe. Orgrimmar; how many times had he seen the place though a computer screen, night after night, and he was really here!

_I wonder what it really looks like up top_, he thought idly.

His attention was brought back to the three beings immediately surrounding him by a gruff clearing of a feminine throat. Searching the features of the three, he could easily see that two of them were of the same undead race as him/her self, and the third appeared to be a female troll. As he brought his gaze back across the trio, he looked closer at the one who had her hand on his shoulder, looking as worn out as an undead being could, and recognition dawned on his features.

"Shel…"

"Gas!" Shelly/Masharret cut him off in mid mistake. "Glad to see you came through ok."

"I, um, yeah, so far," Jake stuttered.

"So far?" Morticide asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Well I'm sure the transition from the Eastern Plagueland's atmosphere to Orgrimmar can be a bit disruptive," Masharret chimed in before Jake could make another blunder.

"Yeah, you know toxic air to dry, clear air – messes with my joints," Jake joked with a deadpan voice.

"I've never had that problem, Princess," Morticide said in all seriousness, and Shelly saw Gas wince at the title.

"I was joking," Gas replied, still deadpan.

"I didn't know you had a sense of humor." Mort tilted his head.

"I'm trying something new," Jake answered.

"Yeah, something **really** new," Shelly mumbled.

"What you be sayin', Masharret?" Safia's eye's narrowed.

"Nothing, I was just thinking I could use something to drink."

"A drink?" Morticide began as Shelly gritted her teeth and deliberately took a breath.

"Pardon me, both of you. This has been a lot to take in, and I have grown weary. Is there someplace I could confer with… the Princess," she grinned a little, "and then rest?"

"My apologies, Masharret." Morticide gave a sincere nod of his malformed head. "You are just recovered from your ordeal and four summons; you must be exhausted. Of course you can retire to your living quarters if you wish."

Shelly gave them a pleading/questioning look.

"It be dis way, Masharret." Safia started back towards the Drag with a sigh.

Jake wisely kept his mouth shut on the way back, and no one questioned him. That fact confused him until his royal status dawned on him, and he realized **they **assumed that when he was ready to give his report he would.

_**She**__ would_. _I have to get used to the fact that I'm female now_. He sighed inwardly. _Why couldn't I have been a Blood Elf…_

They made their way through the Drag, a dark, almost slum-like section of Orgrimmar but only in the fact that it **was** dark and shaded, unlike the rest of the city. A winding path meandered its way through the drag from the Valley of Wisdom, where Thrall's Fortress was, out to the Valley of Strength, the main part of the city where the bank and flight tower resided. A spiral ramp led up the interior of the tower, with a connecting bridge to the upper level of the city. From there you could choose either the Valley of Spirit or swing back around to the Valley of Wisdom. Through the center of the Drag was an ominous path leading to the Cleft of Shadow. If the Drag was thought of to be the slum of Orgrimmar, than the Cleft was the sewer; all gloom and eerie lighting, the Cleft was where most of the shadier happenings took place.

Most of the living quarters in Orgrimmar were located in the Drag, stacked over the shops like wooden beehives. After climbing a few sets of impressively constructed stairways, they came upon an ornate doorway.

"Dis be your livin space Masharret." Safia bowed with a grin.

"Thank you so much for your help today. Hopefully I will be even better tomorrow." Shelly bowed in return. "Hopefully a bit of time discussing things with the Princess here will help." She grinned at Jake's scowl, while Safia looked between both of them, shaking her head. She turned and joined Morticide in descending the stairs, leaving the two of them as they opened the door.

The first noticeable thing was the furniture; it was very basic in form but elaborate in its design. Wooden frames were filled with stuffed skins from all different creatures. Some looked similar to what Jake and Shelly knew from their own world, and others could be guessed at from what they had seen in the gaming world. A chair with an obvious tiger skin covering sat near the door, while over on what appeared to be a couch was a mottled reptilian skin that was much too big to be your average lizard or snake. A few tables along the wall were adorned with keepsakes and bric-a-brak, seeming to belong to Masharret. Picking up a small bluish crystal, Shelly felt a wash of emotion she couldn't explain and placed it back among the others while turning to face Jake. He was already looking at her and watching as she put the Crystal back.

"I know where that's from," Jake said, indicating the keepsake with a nod of Gasalyn's head.

"Where?" Shelly tilted her head quizzically. "And how do you know?"

"The first answer is Un'Goro Crater; remember the power crystals there?"

"Oh, yeah." Masharret's eyes widened in recognition. "Green, red, yellow and blue, right?"

"Yeah, and as to the other answer;" he paused for a moment, "I'm not sure, but I think it's a mix of what I remember from the game and something else I can't quite explain."

Shelly sat down in one of the chairs with an audible clack of joints, while Jake started poking around a bit himself.

"This is too weird." Shelly shook her head slowly. "I could really use something to drink; make me some water, will ya?"

Jake looked around for a second, spotted a pitcher and some glasses, poured a drink, and handed it to Shelly. "Tadaaa," he said with Gasalyn's raspy twang.

"Ok, didn't see that one coming," she said, genuinely surprised as she took the cup. "Just tryin' out the whole reality thing, you know, thinking sensibly and all." He shrugged.

"Wow, you are trying new things." Shelly chuckled and sipped at the water.

"You're still sticking with the sarcasm." Jake smirked.

"Gotta keep some things familiar," Shelly said with more a more serious tone than she intended.

Jake looked around for a few minutes, and, finding a chair that looked suitable, lowered his unfamiliar and petit e frame into it with a small sigh.

"I'm still having a hard time getting used to this," he spoke almost as much to himself as much as to Shelly.

"Huh." She rolled her black eyes and leaned forward to set her drink down on the table in front of her. "I don't think we have ever been more in agreement."

Silence dominated for a few minutes as the two of them tried to absorb the enormity of the situation they were in, and finally Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Ok, let's put all the confusion aside for a minute and get some basic questions out of the way." A new seriousness had lent itself to his raspy feminine voice, and Shelly sat up a bit straighter with a nod of acquiescence.

"We're here; we don't know why, and we'll figure that out later. But for right now, where are the others, and are the others the **others **or not?"

"I hadn't even thought about that – the others being who we think they are, I mean. I just wondered if they were here period."

Jake shrugged. "Well if we stay with the whole logical bent, then we can assume that every one of the characters we knew from the game exist here as themselves with their own personalities and lives."

Realization dawned on Shelly, and her eyes went wide. "Then what about us?"

Jake stared at her for a few minutes as a sort of fascination and horror combined in his gut at the idea of another personality sharing his consciousness. "How would we know?"

Shelly looked even more confused and a little afraid. "I don't know. I mean, would it be something like a voice in our head? Have we just…" She paused and put a hand over her mouth in dismay. "Have we just taken over these bodies and killed their owners?"

No, we are still here, at least I am.

Shelly grabbed her head with a little yelp. "What the hell was that?!" she whispered.

"What was what?" Jake asked as he stood quickly and stumbled, the unfamiliar robes tripping him up once again.

Shelly looked up at him. "A voice in my head," she giggled a little manically. "It said that they are still here."

Jake paused for a moment and waited. "How come I don't hear anything?"

"I don't-" Shelly began, but jumped as the voice spoke again.

Perhaps Gasalyn is choosing to be silent until she understands more. She has always been one to try to see all sides of a situation before taking action.

"How come you haven't said anything before this?" Shelly spoke to the air.

"About what?" Jake looked confused.

"Not you." Shelly waved him off.

I have been just as confused and scared as you, I suppose.

"That makes sense I guess," Shelly said apologetically.

"What does?" Jake asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Who are you talking to?"

Shelly looked at Jake, her eyebrows furrowed. Then one shot up as she realized, "I guess I'm talking to Masharret."

Yes, that is who I am. Although I must admit that I was afraid I was losing my mind there for a while.

Shelly let out a whoosh of air. "Now there's something I can totally identify with."

"This is like listening to someone having a phone conversation; it's all one sided." Jake sighed and sat back down.

What's a phone?

Shelly chuckled. "That is way too much to explain right now. Let's just see if we can find out what is going on here first, then we'll trade dimensional information." She could almost hear Masharret's confusion, but was glad when she didn't ask any more questions.

"That sounds promising," Jake said, leaning forward again. "Is there any way we can do this where we can all talk?"

"She's a voice in my head Jake. Unless you can read minds, I don't see how-"

I might have a solution, although it might be a little uncomfortable for you. It certainly has been for me.

"What is it," Jake asked, seeing there was internal dialog going on again.

"Masharret says she might have a way for us all to talk, and I think I know what it is, although it's gonna be really weird for both of us." Shelly paused as Jake cocked his head in confusion. "Go ahead, Masharret."

Just sit back and relax. When you're tense and concentrating, it makes it much more difficult. Shelly leaned back in her seat and took a deep breath. She let out a muffled gasp as she felt the muscles in her face change ever so slightly and then as her mouth started moving of its own accord. The voice that it emitted was definitely not the same as the one she had been using up till now. Although similar, there was a different tonal quality to it that easily identified as belonging to the body's original host.

"Thank Sylvanas; I thought I would never be able to speak again!" Masharret's relief was palpable, and Jake looked at the Forsaken Warlock with a new understanding. Looking around her living space, she stood and began to walk around, lightly touching objects here and there as if to reassure her that they were real.

"It feels so good to be in control of my own body again. I thought some priest had devised a way to control my mind permanently! It wasn't until I saw you again, Gasalyn, and listened to your conversation here with…" she paused.

_Shelly._

"Shelly, yes, thank you; it was then that I realized that whatever had happened hadn't been intentional."

"Well I'm glad that we haven't done any serious damage and that your ok, but we still don't know what is going on or how this happened. More importantly, we don't know if the others we knew from our world are here as well."

_If they are and they are half as disoriented as we are, they could be in some serious trouble._

"How so?" Masharret asked out loud, much to Jake's dismay.

"What did she say?" He asked pleadingly.

"She says they could be in serious trouble if they are here. One moment, let me sit, and we can all talk if we take turns." She returned to her chair and settled back in it, closing her eyes. "Ok, Shelly, continue; just try to pause before and after you speak."

The change was as subtle yet obvious to the three of them as the facial structure changed again ever so slightly, and the voice that spoke belonged to a different person all together.

"The others that we knew; Morticide told me they were all out on missions of some importance other than Gas here. If this happened to them, and they had the same reaction during a critical moment, it could be very bad."

Jake flashed back to his incident with the gargoyle for a split second and grimaced. "She's right. While I was in the Eastern Plaguelands, I ran into a gargoyle there."

"You did?!" Shelly asked incredulously. "What happened?!"

"I almost got my hand chewed off because I had no idea how to actually use the magic that Gasbag is capable of." At the mention of the name, Jake felt more than heard a disgruntled 'harrumph' from the back of his mind, and his head jerked up in surprise.

"I have a feeling you just heard from Gasalyn; she hates that name," Masharret spoke with a knowing grin.

"Sorry," Jake said aloud, feeling silly and embarrassed at the same time, "but to me, that's the only name I've ever known this character… **you **by." He cringed at the use of the non-personal descriptor.

"I'm sure she'll get over it. She is a princess after all, and one of the best ambassadors we have." The warlock smiled with pride at her last statement. "Now what I'd like to know is which of the others you think are here from where you come from."

Jake paused for a moment ticking off the names in his head, when something occurred to him.

"Masharret, can't you just read Shelly's thoughts?"

She shook her head. "I actually tried that while Shelly was in control; unless she is directing her thoughts at me specifically, I can only hear or see what she is hearing or seeing as I'm sure she is figuring out now." The last part she said with a wink and a slight upturn of the corner of her mouth. Then she closed her eyes again as Shelly came to the fore.

"Feeling stupid here, Jake; didn't even think of that till you mentioned it, but she is right. Her mind is just a blank wall that I can't touch. It's like being paralyzed and being able to move at the same time; you just have no control." At that, she hung her head a little. "My apologies, Masharret. Our confusion and fear are nothing compared to what you must have been feeling. Even for the few minutes you have been in control, it's been a struggle to not freak out, and I **knew **it was coming. I can't even begin to imagine the panic you must have felt when this all began."

It has been a trial, but that is behind us now. We need to focus on the matter at hand.

Shelly nodded and felt a new respect for her host, much more assured that she would figure the problem out with the Warlock on her side. More relaxed with her revelation, she sat back again and slid easier into the background of the undead consciousness.

"Now," Masharret continued, "the names you were about to list off, Jake, if you please."

Jake rubbed his eyes. "God, that creeps me out when you do that."

"I'm sure when Gasalyn decides to speak, and you get used to that, it will become easier," Masharret said with a reassuring smile.

"Right," Jake said with a sigh. "Ok, I'm pretty sure there were only six of us." He tallied the names on his fingers as he listed them off. "There was Shelly, Rad, Harley, Marc, Tanya and myself."

"These names mean nothing to me. Who are their counterparts here? Are they the ones that you recognized when Morticide was listing off the members of the house, Shelly?" Masharret asked, her obvious patience making any apologies unnecessary.

_Yes, Shmee, Rad, and Nut are the others besides Gas that I recognized… _Masharret sensed a pause and that something was amiss.

"What is it Shelly?" she asked aloud, soliciting a querying look from Jake and held up her hand in a wait gesture.

_Do you know a Forsaken warrior by the name of Leani?_

"Yes, a female undead of great renown. She brought us many treasures from the ruins of Ahn'Qiraj." She nodded in remembrance as Jake waited patiently, hands folded in front of him, knowing it was useless to interrupt.

_Morticide didn't mention her and that is the alter ego, for lack of a better term, for Tanya. Would she be here in Orgrimmar?_

"I'm not sure, we would have to ask Morty. " She grinned at the nickname. "I'm sure he could find out easily enough." She focused her attention on Jake again. "Shelly is explaining that the warrior I know as Leani is the counterpart for your Tanya, but unlike the others you know, we are unsure of her whereabouts. I suggested we ask Morticide, as he is one of those in charge of mission record keeping as well as the house charters."

Jake scratched his temple then pointed at nothing. " That brings up another dilemma; how, if at all, do we explain all this ? I mean, Mort is gonna wanna know why we want to find Leani. What, do we say, 'It's nothing really. We're just trying to figure out if we're the only ones here possessed by people from another dimension.' Yeah, I'm sure that will go over well." He threw a hand up and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Masharret paused for a moment, her head tilted with a raised eyebrow as she looked at Jake.

" What. " His voice was as dead as his eyes.

"I'm not even sure I understand all of what you just said, but from Shelly's laughter in my head, I assume it was funny, although I don't see how."

"I guess sarcasm hasn't reached this far across the dimensions yet," he quipped, confusing Masharret even more. She shook her head with a grimace at the out-of-place antics of the strange beings. "In any event," he continued, "I vote we keep this to ourselves until we figure out who's who and find out a bit more on how this all happened."

_I agree. Even if we do tell someone, they most likely won't believe us, and showing someone our little multiple personality trick would just be asking for trouble._

"Yes," Masharret nodded, "that makes sense." She held up her hand, forestalling Jake's question. "For the time being, we will keep this to ourselves until we know more about what has happened."

A knock sounded at the door, and they all froze. A moment passed, and the knock sounded again accompanied by an unfamiliar, female voice.

"Masharret, the force that was sent to the Mechanar has returned." The voice was lilting and beautiful with a commanding undertone that bespoke a familiarity with authority. Masharret rose, and gathering her robes about her, went to the door. Swinging it open, the stunning reality of a Blood Elf in golden armor appeared before them. Her white blond hair was swept up in a pony tail high on her head and adorned with fine, golden chains that looped in graceful curves from across her forehead to her temples, over the insanely long ears, and back around to where her pony tail was affixed with a small strip of leather. The armor consisted of fitted sectional plates covering her slender arms from shoulder to elbow then to her wrist, and the same from the top of her thighs to the knee and on to her ankles. The chest piece covered her lithe torso from neck to abdomen with chain mail running from there to a metal bikini around her waist. A shield peaked from behind her, attached to her back, and a serious looking ornate mace hung from her side.

_Good god_, Jake thought, _they're even hotter in person!_

"Were they successful, Angelus?" Masharret asked all business, snapping Jake out of his fantasy as he recognized the name of another character from the game; but he wisely kept his surprise to himself.

"Yes," she replied. "They returned with the Suneater." Her head tilted to the side, causing the chains there to jingle like tiny wind chimes as a crestfallen look crossed her features, and her emerald eyes dimmed with emotion. "However, not all of them returned safely."

A sense of dread swept through all three of them in an instant, and out of habit Shelly immediately thought, _Damnit Shmee_… But the usually good-natured jibe had lost its sense of comedy and had been replaced by fear.

* * *

"_**C**_ontemptible wretches," he growled. His enormous brow furrowed in distaste, he dismissed the floating red eyes that hung in a smoky miasma before him. The wraith had brought news of what it had seen in the Plaguelands, and the demon knew that with the Princess now in Orgrimmar, it would be more difficult to gather those he had summoned together.

"Maybe so, but you have to admit they are nothing if not resourceful," the voice of the flesh golem was a barely coherent liquid belch from a bottomless pit.

The massive bulk of the demon whirled to face the source of the mocking statement with an ominous snarl.

"Best you watch your tongue, mortal, lest I use it for more than gathering the information I need. I'm sure some of my minions could use another snack…" He paused momentarily, lost in some infernal thought. A slow grin spread across the fiendish visage, all teeth and venomous intent. "Perhaps that rotting tongue of yours could be of more use." He paused again, leaning in close to his prisoner, the mass of his form completely eclipsing all else. "How badly do you want your freedom, mortal?"

The bloated, white hide of the golem was pressed back against the bars, face cringing in fear, creating an almost comical look that caused the brute's smile to widen.

"Wh-why? What do you want?" It's watery voice sounded even more pitiful as a whine of fear.

"Want? Why would I want something from a pathetic creature such as yourself? What could you possibly have that I would want?" The condescending tone of the demon raised a false courage born of anger from the captured being in the cage, and it stood forward in defiance.

"Information, I know things about the other world that can help you."

The beast leaned back with a chuckle that wiped away the moment of false bravado like a hurricane smashing a shoreline.

"If I had wanted that information, I could have just ripped it from your feeble brain. No, I will wait to experience that firsthand and enjoy learning on my own. It's not what you have but what you can give me that could secure your freedom." The voice spoke with calm assurance and promise.

The flesh golem bowed its head with a sigh of resignation. " What do you need ?"

"A simple thing; I want you to guide our guests to the Hammerfall outpost in the Arathi Highlands, nothing more. Do this little thing for me, and I shall release you." The low rumble in his voice was almost soothing.

"Why can't you just bring them all here yourself?" The question brought the demon's face quickly back up to the cage with a growl.

"You question me?!"

"No- no-" the abomination's voice gurgled and stuttered. "I just… You're a demon lord, right? I just thought…"

"Don't – Think." Hissing the words out slowly and deliberately, the brute cut his captive off. "You are not capable of understanding my reasons. You will do what I tell you, or I will feed you a piece at a time to my underlings and keep you alive while I do."

"Fine, fine, whatever," the golem replied, raising its hands in supplication and turning away, anger creeping into his voice from the repeated threats. The response brought a slightly confused but thoughtful look on the demon's face. The usual terror-filled reaction he was used to seemed to not be the case with the mortals from another realm. It was intriguing and perplexing at the same time, yet he knew there had to be a way to exploit the newfound trait. Pulling back and regaining his composure, the demon spoke again.

"Now as to what I want you to do, I am going to send you to the Undercity, and you will ask to see the one called Gasalyn, a female, undead mage of royal status. As she is currently in Orgrimmar, you will tell them it is a matter for her alone and one of great importance," he spoke the last with mocking sincerity. "Remain discrete in your inquiries; I don't need you calling any more attention to yourself than necessary." He grimaced as he finished, disliking the fact that he was forced to speak to this simpleton as a near equal.

"How much more discrete can I be? I look like a bag of hammered shit and smell about as good," he spat out disgusted as he looked himself over.

"Yes, but 'bags of hammered shit,' as you so imaginatively put it, don't talk as much you do, idiot," his voice growled with frustration. "So unless you want me to pull that tongue out and make it easier for you to sound appropriately, talk less." Not being able to stand it anymore, the huge beast waved a clawed hand in a dismissive gesture, and with a pop of air rushing in to fill the void, the abomination vanished from the cage. The demon turned back to survey his immediate surroundings, and with his demonic vision caught sight of another wraith floating by.

"You," he had no need to point as the minion responded immediately. "I have need of you for a special task."

* * *

"_**F**_er Christ's sake, we were just trying to ride through the town to get home!" Joe exclaimed, exasperated, while he pulled an arrow from his ribs. "And that friggin **hurt**!"

"Duskwood **is** still Alliance territory," commented Harley as he glanced back over his shoulder. "I'm just glad we decided to ride though fast; if we hadn't, one of those guards might have pulled one of us off the mount, and then we would have been in some serious trouble. As it now stands, it looks like they're not following us, and I hope it stays that way. "

"Can't argue with that," Joe spat through clenched teeth as he held a hand to the wound in his side. "Got any of those bandages handy?" he asked as he slowed his mount down. Harley reigned in his mount as well and swung his backpack around to take a look.

As he turned back to hand Joe the bandage, he felt a rush of air pass behind him followed by a growl. He caught what looked like a blurred ball of fur take the unsuspecting rogue right out of his saddle. Before he could even follow, Oreo roared to his left and, looking in that direction, he saw his pet leap straight up as another of the hairy attackers flew directly at him. Blocking the assault with his vertical leap, Oreo and whatever it was were thrown into the side of Harley's Kodo, making it stagger and sending the massive bovine flailing to the ground. Scrambling to his feet, he caught sight of his pet locking its formidable jaws onto the throat of what appeared to be a white-furred , eight foot, half man, half wolf.

_I remember these guys; they're supposed to be easy_! Harley thought with a crazy grin. With his teeth in place, the raptor began to use the vicious talons his kind were so well known for and tear deep into the feral chest and abdomen. Harley watched in horrid fascination as the creature's jaws kept opening and closing while wet, gurgling sounds and spouts of blood erupted from the torn and gaping wound . It only took a moment for him to realize that the beast was trying to scream or howl in agony.

A sharp yelp behind him caused him to turn once more and see Joe's attacker quickly backpedalling away from him, favoring it's left foot while Joe stood, blades drawn, resolutely waiting for the next attack. The little rogue glanced quickly at Harley then back at his opponent, and in that second of eye contact, the Tauren knew that it wasn't his friend that looked out from behind those eyes. The **real** Radamantis was in charge of those blades, and the glowing orbs that passed for eyes had a single-mindedly calm, yet murderous look that Harley had never seen. A glint in his eyes promised a swift decisive death; promise being kept a moment later as the man/wolf charged. Leaping at his deceivingly small opponent, it was surprised to find the little humanoid perched on top of its shoulders as it landed. Rad had executed a crazy forward flip as the creature had landed and drove both blades into the meat of its back. Crossing his arms over so the blades were in the correct position, he pulled them back across with a hideous yell and severed the beast's spinal column.

Harley was stunned and could only stand there as Rad stood on top of the corpse, looking warily around for any other attackers. The bewildered Tauren heard the familiar foot clicks of his pet coming up beside him and looked down to see it grinning up at him, its teeth full of fur and gore with blood dripping from his chin.

The whole incident had taken all of 20 seconds, and Harley felt as if he had aged a year. Then, with a shuffling stumble, the undead rogue fell off the corpse, dropped his gore encrusted-blades, and hit the ground in a sitting position. The obvious look of puzzlement mixed with wonder and horror told Harley that Joe was back and then knew what he had experienced outside of Goldshire.

"What… what the hell just happened?" he asked, bewildered.

"I've been thinking about that." Harley's brow furrowed and he reflexively laid a hand on Oreo's head, lightly scratching his scaly ridge.

". . . **And**?" Joe's voice grated with impatience and sarcasm.

"Well I think that when we got here – however **that **happened – we sort of possessed these bodies."

Joe sat there for a moment, staring at the pondering Tauren, and then shook his head quickly as he said, "What?"

"Just think about it for a second. We're here, in this world, so that would mean that everything here has to exist as we know it from the game, even the characters we created, right ?"

"Following you so far," Joe grunted as he stood up and watched Harley start pacing. Oreo began rubbing his face on the ground, cleaning off the gore and blood.

"It also seems that the rules of the game, not counting the use of magic and all that encompasses, don't seem to apply here as much as the rules of reality. What I mean by that is when you kill things, they die; when you are spotted by an enemy they alert **everyone**, and so forth." His hooves puffed up little clouds of dust as he came to a stop and looked directly at Joe. "Have you noticed that **all **the creatures and beings that we come across seem to have personalities all their own?"

The little rogue scratched his head for a moment. "Now that you mention it, yeah. It's not the predictable computer mentality."

"Which brings me to the next little nugget of joy, and that is that Radamantis and Nutharen most likely have their **own **personalities, as well. This would mean, if it's true, that our personalities seem to have supplanted them, and this, oh so neatly," he shook his big, horned, and furry, head while looking up and closed his eyes in mock rapture, "explains why we keep having these 'episodes.'" He brought his head back down as he finished the statement with a deadpan look, supplanting the previous one like a hammer on steel.

The full extent of what Harley was saying started to sink in, and Joe quickly looked at him with a new realization. "That's why were so good during the battles. It's not us; it's them!"

"Yeah," said Harley with a new look on his face, one of sadness mixed with concern, "And I bet they want 'em back pretty bad."

The two long-time friends stared at each other, both reeling from the implications of what they had discovered. Whether it was true was no longer in dispute; the evidence of what they had guessed was clear. Although Joe felt horrified at the allusion that he was possibly in possession – **forcefully** in possession of another beings body, he knew beyond a doubt that his benevolent friend was feeling worse.

"Well Harley," his undead voice grating like stones rubbed with sand, "I can tell you one thing with all confidence."

"What's that?" The big Tauren's deep timbre resonated melancholy.

"Not a damn thing we can do about it out here," he stated flatly with a shake of his head as he climbed back onto his wolf. "I say we make our way to Grom Gol in Stranglethorn Vale and hop the Zeppelin to Org."

"Why? What's in Orgrimmar that's gonna make this any easier to understand?" Harley asked, still a little glum but trusting his friend's instincts.

"I'm not sure, big guy, but I know we need someplace safe, comfortable, and familiar right now, and since we're stuck in this world, I can't think of a better place that fits that description." He finished with a nod and looked over to his friend as he was settling into the massive saddle that adorned his equally large mount. Harley sat for a moment, looking forward at nothing, the breeze causing the fur on his face to swirl and eddy in ever changing patterns. He finally took a deep breath, blowing it out in a huff, and looked over at the rogue on his wolf. A half grin crossed his features when he saw how dwarfed it looked next to him.

"Alright, Joe, I can't come up with anything better, and if there was ever a time for me to trust your usually reliable judgment, that time would be now. So lead on, little man," the big cow raised his arm in a 'go ahead' gesture with a nod, "and if you get me killed, I'm gonna tea bag you from the shadows for all eternity."

* * *

_**S**_hattrath – as the portal closed, I could hear the sounds I knew so well from the many nights of playing, but they were coming from all different directions instead of the one I was used to. No longer were the laughter and murmurs coming from headphones, but from all directions around me. The tone was different as well; real emotion and character suffused the voices with a personality. They moved as well; these were not stationary pixilated graphics. Draenei and Blood Elf, Orc and Troll, Dwarf and Gnome; all these voices and more composed the hundreds of beings that milled about their daily business in the safe haven that was the main city of the Outlands.

_The Terrace of Light__,_ I thought as I looked around in wonder. A massive hall shaped like a rough cone; streams of water ran around the outside edge and through the center, travelling in cut stone rivers. The single tier of a balcony extended all the way around the outside of the cone approximately one story above the floor. In the center, a Dias stood where Draenei elders spoke to supplicants gathered on the floor below, and at the center of it all was A'dal, the Crystalline entity whom the Draenei worshiped as a goddess. All sharp edges and curving lines, the body of the crystal gave off a soft white light, suffusing its entirety with a calming glow. The light itself extended upward through a hole in the top of the cone, seeming to go on past the limit of the sky. Another wonder assailed my already overtaxed senses as a shriek brought my head around to see a massive, ghostly blue dragon descend through one of the massive archways that lead into this immense chamber I found myself in.

_A Netherdrake_, I realized as it landed. _Christ, they're even bigger in person!_Then the Orc riding it slid off and held out its hand, and the misty-looking creature seemed to collapse in on itself, growing smaller and smaller until it ended up as a tiny crystal figurine that rested in the palm of the Orc's hand. Pocketing it, he turned and walked out of the building, on to business I could only guess. Right then, a voice sounded in my head like wind chimes in a summer breeze mixed with raining shards of glass.

You are not who you seem to be, what world are you from?

I looked around frantically, generating a few stares from those around me.

"Where…? Who…?" I sputtered.

Do not be alarmed. It is I, A'dal.

I brought my gaze up to the glowing gem and slowly walked toward it. "You know what be happenin to me?"

No, I do not, I just recognized that you have two entities in that body, and you don't have to speak aloud to commune with me. You may just think, and I will understand.

_Well that's convenient and helpful as well seeing as I really don't want to talk about this with those around me; I don't think they would understand._

_**No, mon, I don' think they would.**_Shmeegun's voice rang loud in my ears.

"Jesus, do you have to shout?!" I spoke aloud, startled and got a few more stares for my efforts.

_Apologies, mon, but I am bein a bit upset._

_Understandable, I'm a bit shaken myself, especially now knowing you exist_.

There is more here than what we perceive. A'dal's voice cascaded through the noise of the surroundings and the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. You should not be here; something unnatural has happened and must be set right.

_Tell me about it. I'm the one stuck in a world I didn't know was real in a being I didn't know __**could **__be real!_

At that moment, Rhok put his hand on my shoulder, and I turned to look as he said, "You alright, Shmee?"

"Yeah… yeah, mon. A'dal 'parently has sometin…" I paused, realizing I wasn't sure what gender a crystal entity would be if any.

In terms you would understand, I am male.

_Thanks. _

". . . he be needin to say to me," I finished.

A new respect showed in Rhok's eyes. "Well then, I'll leave you to it and meet you back in Orgrimmar." With a nod, he turned and went back to the others, explaining the situation as he headed toward the ever-present portals that connected to each major city.

As they stepped though and disappeared, I turned back to the floating gemstone and sat on one of the steps of the Dias.

_So let's sort some of this out. If I remember my history, A'dal, you are one of the beings that helped the Draenei escape their home world before the Burning Legion, or the beginnings of it, enslaved the entire planet. _

Yes, almost 25,000 years ago, Sargeras approached the eredar, the race from which the Draenei descended from on their home planet of Argus. He offered the three leaders of the eredar (Archimonde, Kil'jaeden, and Velen) untold power in exchange for their loyalty. Velen had a vision that showed him the creation of the Burning Legion and its aftermath. He warned Kil'jaeden and Archimonde about this, but they did not care. Instead, they thought of the power they could gain and accepted Sargeras' offer.

_Ja, mon, and it was soon after dat, de' be crashin' in Azeroth and be meetin' de Orcs and den de story be getting all kinds of strange. _

_Ok, for now let's forget about the history lesson and focus on the here and now, specifically on how I got here and hopefully how I get back. Has there been anything out of the ordinary, I _almost laughed as I said that_, that has happened lately that might give us a clue?_

There have been some strange irregularities with the portals as of late that have caused some of the beings using them to end up at the wrong destinations.

I was a little startled. _Is that possible?_ My brow furrowed in disbelief. _Aren't portals a one way window straight to their destinations?_

_Ja,_Shmee answered hesitantly._It be makin' little sense, but we be havin' some of de top mages in Azeroth lookin' into it._

_Wait a minute – you mean to tell me that when you made that portal for us at the Mechanar, we could have ended up in, say, Stormwind?!_My eyes were wide with incredulity.

No, A'dal answered. The miscalculated arrivals still seem to limit themselves to the factional cities and sanctuaries. No cross factional arrivals have been reported… at least not that we know of.

"Oh great!" I said aloud, throwing my hands up in annoyance, then forced myself to return to silent communication and continued. _How long has this been going on?_

'_Bout twelve turns of de sun, mon__, _Shmee answered, sounding a little irritated at my outburst. I took a deep breath and attempted to gather my wits.

_Well I only got here today, so it doesn't seem like that would have anything to do with this. It's definitely strange, though._My curiosity got the best of me_. __Any idea what would cause that?_

Not yet, but the fluctuations in the magical weave when it happens are very disorienting, so I have trouble focusing when it happens.

I looked up at the slowly rotating crystalline lattice. _What do you mean?_

_De Narru race can see magic_, Shmeegun piped up. _De weave which all magic bein' created from be havin' a pattern an flow that few races can actually see an manipulate. _

_What others can do this__? _I asked, my interest piqued once again.

Demons.

The finality with which A'dal said the word spoke volumes and made clear how troubling this problem was.

_Hey, mon…_ Shmee spoke hesitantly. _What we be callin' you?_

It took me a moment to decipher what he was saying, and when it clicked, I felt awkward_. __Um… Marc. My name is Marc._

_Well, Marc, I and I be tired and hungry and wantin' to get home; maybe we can be figurin' dis out after I get some food and sleep._

_Yeah__, _I agreed_, I could use a rest as well… Um, where do you live?_I asked uncertainly.

The deep Jamaican chuckle in my head was almost reassuring_. Orgrimmar, mon. I live in de wonderful city of Orgrimmar. _

_So, risking another portal, are we?_I asked good naturedly.

_Ja, but risk be part of de game, no?_The Troll retorted with a chuckle, picking up on my change of mood.

_It is now._The sound of resigned sarcasm coated the thought as I heaved myself up off the Dias. I turned and dipped my head to the glowing gem. _Thank you for your help, A'dal. Meeting you was a distinct pleasure, and if there is anything I can do while I am here…_ I stopped, the absurdity of the offer considering the state I was in made me want to break out in peals of laughter. As it was, I stifled a chuckle as I felt a warm glow emanate from the beautiful alien form.

The offer is appreciated regardless of whether it can be carried out. my thanks, Marc, and rest assured if I do need your help, I sense that you would do everything you could to see it though.

A mixture of pleasure and embarrassment assailed me from the compliment, and I sobered immediately.

_Thank you. I do my best to be honorable and trustworthy; it's just who I am._

_Dat bein' good to know_, the mage said with sincerity. _Now if you be turnin' around and walkin'…_

_I know where the portal is, Shmee_. It was rather disorienting calling the voice in my head by the name I had known a cartoon by for the past four and a half years. _I may have never been here in the flesh, but trust me, I have spent many an hour running around this world._

_One day, you be havin' to explain how dat be, my new friend,_he said with a laugh.

I would like to hear that explanation as well, Marc. A'dal's voice cascaded over me again, and I knew that I would never feel anything to equal it for the rest of my life… _however much of it I had left,_I thought to myself with quiet laugh.

"Farewell then, A'dal, until we meet again." I spoke aloud with a wave as I turned to leave, wishing to use the vocal chords I had to give the valediction the sincerity I felt.

Until then, Marc, be on your guard, and may the light watch over you.

I turned my attention back to the other voice in my head to respond to his statement.

_It would be a pleasure and an honor to attempt that explanation, and you could tell me stories about your life that I'm sure would have me amazed and in hysterics, if Rhok's reaction to your 'Plan' is any indication._

The deep, full-throated laugh that erupted made me wince but also set me at ease._ I may be in another dimension,_I thought to myself with a smile and shake of my head_, __and __**way **__out of my depth, but at least I can still make friends easily, and that's always a good thing._

_Ja, mon,_Shmee spoke up, still chuckling_, __dose be some stories to be tellin' over some Dwarven Ale at de tavern in de Valley of Strength. We be toastin' and laughin' wit de likes of Gamon!_

I stopped dead just before the trio of p ortals to the major Horde cities as a surprised grin spread over the tusks protruding from my mouth.

_Gamon!?_ I chuckled out loud and shook my head at the thought of the well-known character that was fixture in the Inn located within Orgrimmar. The entity endowed with that name had become celebrated as the Orgrimmar punching bag. A weak, low level individual in the game, he was constantly being attacked and killed by anyone and everyone who was either frustrated or just bored and felt better by dishing out some random digital fantasy violence.

_Good god, that poor Tauren…_I said with amazement and not a little who I was, even unwarranted cruelty in a game was something I didn't wholly agree with. Although I couldn't deny that I participated in my fair share of 'Gamon Griefing.'

_What be wrong with Gamon?_ the Troll asked, still sounding amused, but slightly puzzled as well.

_Another story for another time, my friend. In the meantime, shall we be on our way?_

_Certainly, mon. Let's do dis ting. _

Taking a deep breath, I stepped toward the shimmering disk that showed the all too familiar orange background of the sands and rock of Durotar. The more immediate platform of a balcony in the Valley of Spirit, one of the four areas that made up the corners of the massive city, was the top of a building where all mages received their training. The memorable building gave me a modicum of reassurance as I lifted a bare two-toed foot and leaned into the portal.

A wave of disorientation and discordant sensation swept over me, and all my senses were overwhelmed to the point of essentially becoming completely and utterly invalid. Nothing worked right, and I could just make out the sound of Shmeegun roaring in my head incoherently. A moment later, I understood that I was involuntarily mimicking every throat-tearing scream. After a few agonizing seconds had passed, my vision started to make enough sense that I could comprehend that I was floating or falling though some grayish mist; I couldn't tell which. Then, in the space between an inhale and an exhale, I could see portals.

Everywhere.

In every direction I looked, there were thousands of them, and each sprung lines of glowing gossamer that flowed between them. _Like a web_, I thought, _but without the deliberate structure. _Much like the synapses in a brain, the lines were firing off random pulses of light. Then, with a rush of hurricane-force wind, I was pulled toward one of the portals…

…and found myself staring at three female and two male Draenei standing around stone tables in a room with vaulted ceilings and soaring lavender and blue crystal formations.

_Ohhhh good,_ I said silently, all dripping with dread and sarcasm. _We're in Exodar. That's great, an Alliance stronghold… We're so dead. _

Without hesitation, Shmeegun, taking full control of his body and weaving his hands quickly, spoke a word silently in the head we shared – a word I recognized as arcane in origin, but I had no hope of understanding. In an instant, everything was covered in an underwater-like shimmer as the familiar effects of becoming invisible kicked in. Luck was with us as all of the Draenei had been occupied with one task or another and had not noticed us materialize out of thin air. The down side was that even though none of them had seen us, we could no longer see them. The mechanics of the spell didn't just render us invisible to others, it physically moved the user in between dimensions, essentially making the big blue troll I currently inhabited ethereal. So although we could still see structures and terrain around us, all living things were now shifted out of our perspective.

_We're in trouble, aren't we_? I asked needlessly.

_Ya, mon. I and I not be knowin this place_. Shmee sounded calm, but a little unsure of himself.

_How long does this spell last?_ I asked, hoping that this reality and mine differed in the answer. As far as I knew, this effect had a 20 second duration which, in this situation, was essentially useless.

'_Bout a minute,_ the mage replied in a no-nonsense tone.

_Alright,_ I sighed, wasting no time. _Turn directly around and head for that large central area. There's a big spiral ramp there; head up it as fast as you can._

_How you be knowin' where to go?_ Shmee asked as he spun around and took off.

_Have to explain that later as well, big guy. The clock is ticking, and this invisibility is still going to run out before we're clear._

I could almost feel the troll's affirmative nod as the central area came into view ahead. Even in our hurried and desperate situation, the architecture of the Exodar was something to behold. The entire area we were in was suffused with a blue radiance that faded from dark cobalt to a flat cerulean, and patches of navy fused over formations of stone flooring and jutting pillars alike. At random intervals, large clusters and singular columns of lavender crystal protruded from the floor; these were also shot through with an azure incandescence. Far above in the dizzying heights, gossamer tapestries with a lavender sheen hung lazily from unseen anchors and stretched in all directions. As we came to the innermost area, I could see the other two hallways stretching off to the left and right of us that housed more of the necessary services needed to keep this self-contained city in working order. The colors and decorum differed in each, and I realized it was a system set in place to easily navigate the huge edifice.

As we started up the central ramp, I felt a slight nudge as if someone were lightly brushing a hair from my temple. A voice that sounded familiar but older and more tired cascaded over us, causing Shmee to stumble a moment before catching himself and continuing upward.

You do not belong here.

_Where have we heard that before_? I said, sarcasm dripping.

_Who dat be?_ Shmee asked. _It be soundin like A'dal, but not_.

_It's h is counterpart, or something like that; I think the name is O'ros, right__?_ I directed the question at the crystalline entity I knew to be far below us at the bottom of Exodar. No response came, and what little I knew of the ancient beings and their history flashed in my head, reminding me that this particular Narru almost never spoke to any but those allied with the Draenei.

We had almost reached the top of the spiral, and the entrance to the Exodar loomed ahead. A massive archway lined with stone and crystal, it ascended an impressive height over our heads.

_Alright, Shmee, were almost outta here; as soon as you get out, take a sharp right and head for the gap in the wall at the back of the platform._

_I be hearin you Marc, we_– His voice faded, along with the shimmer of invisibility, much to the surprise of two very large Draenei guards wielding wicked looking spears on either side of the entrance.

_Blink!_ I shouted, causing the mage to almost stumble as he skidded to a halt. The guards' surprise didn't last long as they lowered their spears in our direction and started to shout in a language neither of us could understand.

_What be dis blink?!_ The trolls' confusion was palpable as I realized that the spell I was thinking of must have a different name here.

_Move forward instantly with a spell!_ I babbled quickly.

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. The effect was instantaneous; one second we were standing inside the doorway, the guards advancing on us, and the next Shmee was outside the doorway and I was still standing in the same spot. The mage must have felt the change because he turned around and gaped at me. I looked down and saw a ghostly set of arms that looked like mine, but I could see through them to the ground below. Looking back up, I also saw a thin blue line that ran between us from my chest to his. As I watched, the line went taught, and with staggering speed, I was yanked directly at my counterpart and slammed back into the mental prison I had previously occupied.

The troll staggered back a few steps and shook his head in bewilderment.

_What the __**hell**__ was that!?_I half shouted.

The shout of the guards as they turned to run in our direction interrupted any response Shmee might have had. Reacting on instinct and years of training, the mage threw his hands up, speaking another arcane word, and a blast of frigid air shot out in all directions around us, encasing the two guards on the trademark gleaming ice of a frost nova. Knowing the reprieve would only be momentary, Shmee headed toward the aforementioned gap. Right next to where we were headed was the hippogriff flight area where all air traffic to and from the Exodar took place. Two of the mythical creatures sat in nests, looking on with disinterest, and a simply dressed male Draenei, the flight master, stood between them. A screech over our heads told of an incoming passenger, and Shmee looked up to see as another of the half-horse, half-falcon looking creatures carrying a slight-looking female Draenei in flourished robes land ahead of us. As soon as the hooves touched the ground, the fantastical blue female's own hooves clattered to the stone, and I was struck with the shock of recognition.

_Shmee, wait, stop; let me speak._

_We need to be goin', Marc_, the mage said firmly. _Nothin' you can be sayin' can they be hearin' anyway._

_Please, you have to trust me on this one._

The troll skidded to a stop and relinquished control of his body to me once again.

Behind me I could hear the crack of the ice the guards were encased in as they hammered away at it with their spears, while in front of me the half-goat half-demonic female began weaving a spell of her own. Blocking all this out I closed my eyes and concentrated, taking a deep breath to calm myself. Knowing I only had seconds to avert disaster, I opened my eyes and spoke loudly but slowly.

"Ra – ven – bear."

* * *

_**G**_rom Gol – both of them had been there a hundred times, possibly a thousand, within the confines of the game. At that moment, however, they were seeing it as a reality, and it made the experience new and awe-inspiring again. They stood at the massive wooden gate rooted to the spot as the sounds of the outpost spoke of the life struggling around them, t he hammer of Hragran pounding out the imperfections of whatever weapon or piece of armor the Orc was working on at that particular moment, the screech of the Wyvern as they left or arrived from their myriad destinations throughout the continent. The mythical creatures themselves were a sight to behold from the new perspective. All tawny-colored fur and leathery wings, their lion-like bodies looked ungainly while walking on the ground, and their scorpion tails constantly twitched to maintain their balance. Their feline features were in a permanent scowl with the effort. Yet with an almost vertical leap, the beat of powerful wing's grace and precision would show through in flight as if they existed to be airborne. Back on the ground, shouting voices brought the pair's attention to a group near the bonfire that roared and crackled at the center of the site where a patrol had just returned from the jungle beyond. Although the group of Orcs and Trolls looked beleaguered and ragged, they stood at dutiful attention as they were given further orders on where to proceed to next. All along the edge of the camp where the wall made of upright hewn logs that formed the barrier against the denizens of the jungle, suppliers of all kinds bartered their wares to whomever passed through the camp. Food, armor, weapons and supplies both mundane and magical could be obtained for the right price to any member of the Horde.

The deep intonation of a bell from above brought the duo's attention once again to the sky above and specifically to the tower that dominated the camp. A construct of massive wooden beams and dried mud and grass, it ascended some fifty feet and was topped with a rounded deck where five risers made of wooden planks jutted out from the edge. The risers were used as docking platforms to load and unload cargo or passengers from the Zeppelins that traveled between the two major continents of Azeroth – the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor. The huge air machines consisted of the basic hull of a Keelboat with a massive propeller attached to the stern of the boat for thrust, two small wings on either side for a semblance of maneuverability, and above it all the airbag for lift. The blimp that held the ship aloft was a mass of animal skins sewn together and strapped to the boat with a net of leather and sinew and filled with hot air.

_Only in a world such as this could such a crude contraption actually work_, thought Harley as he barked out a laugh, startling the diminutive rogue at his side.

"What?" Joe asked, looking up at his friend.

"I don't know," he replied, shaking his head in wonder. "I guess it just looks a little ridiculous now that I actually see it."

Looking back at the buoyant vessel, Joe half smiled. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He then brought his awareness back to the ground and scanned the encampment once again, taking stock of everything around him.

"Well," he said with a huff of air, "need anything before we risk life and limb floating across an ocean filled with mythical creatures that could tear us limb from limb?"

Harley slowly turned his head until his bemused gaze was fixed on his little undead friend, who was studiously examining anything but his bovine companion.

"If anything happens I am **so **gonna drown you first," Harley said with a straight face.

"Bring it on, cow man. I don't **have **to breathe, remember?"

"Oh, shut up."

"Right, let's go for a ride then." Joe finished the bantering session with a clap of his hands and made his way to the tower with Harley and a blissfully ignorant raptor in tow.

When they reached the top of the tower, they were confronted with their first introduction to a real-live Goblin. Short and ugly somehow didn't quite cover what they were faced with as an adequate description. Square oversized teeth seemed to push their way out of an equally oversized mouth, and this feature was only dominated by the proboscis-like nose protruding from underneath two squinted black eyes. Short and stocky, the little imps looked like they might have been taller at one point in time, but as a race were suddenly and violently crushed just a few inches so what they lost in height they gained in width. Wide, flat ears adorned either side of their head, adding to the impish look, and the skin ran from a mottled black and brown to a dark moss green. Like most beings of short stature, however, their inherent size never quite affected their demeanor.

"Ho there, travelers, watch your step." The apparent zeppelin master of this tower, the diminutive being strode forward to greet the two friends. "I am Nez'raz, and my partner over there is Squibby," he indicated the other goblin on the platform with a nod of his misshapen head. "Glad to have ya on board for the ride to Undercity." He finished with an outsized grin.

"Crap," admonished Joe as he slapped a hand over his face.

"Oh good one," Harley said, rolling his eyes and looking down at the little rogue. "Forget that. This ride only goes to Undercity?"

Joe looked up at the annoyed Tauren. "Hey, you didn't remember either, smart guy," he accused.

Harley sighed and shrugged. "Whatever, let's just get this over with; common Oreo." He coaxed the saurian at his side with a jerk of his head and plodded onto the boat-like contraption floating before him.

Looking from the receding bovine to the impassive features of the undead rogue before him, Nez'raz maintained his cheerful demeanor with a wave and a hearty "safe journey to the both of you!"

"Thanks," Joe said listlessly and went to join his exasperated friend on the ship.

A female undead voice floated up from down the ramp and caused him to turn as he crossed the threshold of the deck.

"Nez, you little imp, you make any coin off those relics I traded you from Black Rock?"

"Leani, good to see you returned safely; how went the incursion into Zul'Gurub?" he responded with a cackle.

At the mention of the name Harley spun around, almost losing his balance, and both of them gasped in unison.

"Leani?!"

The undead warrior was decked out in rugged-looking plates of formidable armor, and a heavy-looking helmet hid most of her facial features as her head swung up to look in their direction. The massive and dangerous looking blade at her side clanked solidly against her hip as she strode toward them, and the jumbo shield on her arm seemed to weigh nothing to her as she swung it up to point at them.

"Nutharen, Radamantis, what are you two doing here? I thought you were supposed to be scouting out Goldshire and Stormwind?" Her tone was authoritative but not accusing and it was immediately apparent that this was not the Leani that they knew, but the denizen of this reality.

"We, um, ran into some trouble," Harley stuttered slightly caught off guard.

"What kind of trouble?" she asked, her query sounding innocent and demanding at the same time.

"The defenses," Joe spoke up, taking on a more assured air and stepping forward while letting Harley collect his thoughts. "They were more formidable than we had anticipated. There were more guards in Goldshire than normal, and we were discovered, so we retreated to report what I believe to be a buildup of forces to… our superiors," he stumbled over the last part, trying to think of who he would report **to**.

Relaxing her stance and looking mollified by the story, Leani nodded. "A wise decision, Radamantis. When we reach Undercity, we shall look for a mage there to teleport you directly to Orgrimmar so we can get this information to Thrall as quickly as possible."

A quiet chuff behind the rogue brought the warrior's attention to the raptor standing beside its master, who was engaged in picking the lingering fur and flesh from its teeth left behind from the battle in Duskwood.

"Oreo, isn't it?" she directed her question to the towering Hunter at the raptor's side, who nodded the affirmative. "There is blood on his claws; you didn't mention any battle with the guards." She tilted her head inquisitively.

"There was none," he rumbled quietly. "That is from the Worgen we encountered on our way through Duskwood."

"Duskwood?" She raised her eyebrow in question.

The Tauren shrugged his massive shoulders. "It was the shortest route out of Goldshire, and we were in a bit of a hurry."

"True," she nodded "Well then, the zeppelin looks about ready to disembark; shall we get underway?"

"By all means," Joe stepped back with a little bow and outstretched arm to allow the warrior aboard. "Please. join us."

"Thank you, Radamantis," Leani rasped as she clanked aboard, a slightly confused look on her face at his actions.

Harley looked at the rogue as the female undead passed between them and rolled his eyes. The little rogue shrugged and returned a look that said, 'what the hell am I supposed to do,' as the huge propeller in the back sputtered to life and the boat inched away from the dock.

* * *

_**A**_fter a hurried trip though the Drag, Angelus led them to Thrall's chamber where a multitude had gathered to see the wondrous blade brought back from the Mechanar. Momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer menacing beauty of the weapon, Shelly and Jake stood, as many of the others around them, and gaped at the frightening weapon. The blade had an almost internal flame that coursed from the hilt to the tip in radiating waves of orange, red, and a maroon so dark as to be almost black. The blade only extended from the tightly wound handle a mere four feet, yet boasted almost a foot in width, which gave it the awe-inducing appearance. The sword boasted incredible defensive magics and was said to have been forged in the heart of a dying star; although by whom and how, one could only guess.

Stepping down from his throne, Thrall crossed to the Orc holding the blade with a look of unadorned pride. As he came within a few steps, the slightly smaller Orc kneeled and held the blade out to his leader with reverence. Taking the blade with a nod he hefted the weight, tossing it lightly in his hand, then stepped back and swung it a few times as a smile grew on his fearsome features. He looked back at his brethren kneeling before him and spoke.

"You have exceeded expectation once again, Rhok of House Exiled. With this weapon," he held the Suneater aloft, "and the enchantments we will endow it with, we will be able to strike a critical blow at the very heart of the Burning Legion." He looked back down at the four left from the group that had returned with the blade as they hung their heads in obvious grief. He continued in a subdued tone. "And with that very first strike, we shall honor the memory of our fallen comrade, who gave his life in the retrieval of this boon to the Horde."

Shelly and Jake both gasped as their throats constricted in fear.

Thrall then kneeled and hung his head, and all others in the room followed suit. "May the mighty druid Cor find his way to his ancestors, and the Earth mother guide his journey with peaceful drums." He recited the passage learned from the leader of the Tauren, Cairne Bloodhoof.

A breath Jake didn't even know he was holding whooshed out in relief as Shelly broke out in tears of mixed sorrow and guilt at her sudden flash of happiness that it wasn't Shmee that had died. Others also released their anguish at another death in their ranks. Jake laid his hand on Shelly's shoulder, and she grabbed him in a desperate hug, whispering, "I'm not sure how much more of this I can take." Awkwardly returning the embrace and unsure of what to say, the young Jake just did his best to comfort his friend as the sobs slowly faded and her breathing returned to normal.

Slowly releasing the embrace and stepping back to smooth her robes, Shelly looked at her friend, and a slow smile spread across her face.

"What?" Jake asked, confusion obvious on his/her ghoulish features.

"Just kind of funny the fact that I've known you as long as I have and this is how we first actually meet."

The gnarled hand of his undead host flew to his mouth as he stifled a laugh which he knew would be entirely inappropriate in the environment they were in. Then his expression changed just as fast as his host finally revealed her presence with an annoyed tone.

How can anything be funny at this moment?

"I'm sorr-" he began out loud, then clamped his mouth shut and quickly pointed at his head in explanation to Shelly's quizzical look. She nodded in understanding and, knowing she couldn't participate in the conversation, began to look around to ask about Shmee's whereabouts. Seeing a familiar undead face, she motioned for Jake to stay where he was and headed off towards where Rainfendi stood with Rhok and a Blood Elf she did not recognize.

Closing his eyes and trying to keep the surreal feeling of having a conversation in his head with a completely different person overwhelm him, Jake started again.

_My amusement had nothing to do with the current situation Gasb- Gasalyn; my apologies if I upset you._ A moment passed before a similar voice to the one he had been speaking with continued in his head.

_I can assume that to be a lengthy story, as is everything else with you and your friends._ Before Jake could respond, she continued_. That aside I, also sense you feel relief at Cor's death. Why is this?_

_No, no,_ Jake shook his head as a wave of guilt trickled over his conscience, _please don't misunderstand. I did not know Cor personally, but his death was both heroic and tragic. My relief was from finding out that is wasn't my friend Marc, or who we think Marc is with – the mage, Shmeegun._

_Ah yes, now I understand, Jake. Then I owe you an apology for my accusation. Cor was a good friend of mine and a steadfast ally for both me and the Horde as a whole. He was a shining example of courage and dedication for his race and us all._

Jake could hear the tearful admiration in her voice as she spoke of the now deceased druid. _Then there is no need to apologize. It was a simple misunderstanding, and I'm just sorry it was how our first conversation began._

_I as well_, she paused with a sigh, and Jake was surprised to hear in his head; the small sound of weariness cemented the fact that he was really sharing a body with another being from another reality. _Now, shall we join Masharret? She most likely has news of your friend, or at least of Shmeegun, and I would also like to know what she finds out._

Nodding, Jake headed toward the small group gathered near the warlock and watched the Orc he now knew as Rhok gesturing wildly as he described what Jake guessed was the ordeal from the Mechanar. As he approached, he could see the looks of amazement on the listener's faces.

"…and you should have seen Pathaleon's face when I slammed that door shut. I think if we hadn't had Shmeegun's portal, he would have torn down those doors with his bare hands to come after us!" He ended with a roar of laughter that was joined by many of those surrounding him, including Thrall. When they had quieted down some, Thrall spoke up once more, asking the question on both Jake and Shelly's mind.

"So where is that crazy blue troll? I would have thought he would come back with you for Cor's death rites."

"When we reached Shattrath, he seemed lost in thought, and when I asked him if he was alright, he said that A'dal had business with him and said he would meet us back here when he was done." Rainfendi nodded in conformation beside him, and Blackfire did as well with ears bobbing.

"Business with A'dal is usually cryptic, yet always important," Thrall spoke knowingly, "and perhaps he had news concerning the portal malfunctions that he wished to consult Shmeegun on." Both Jake and Shelly looked at each other quizzically, then listened to their counterparts explain with unfocused eyes as he continued.

"Whatever it may be, we will hear from him soon enough. In the meantime, it is past moonrise, and we all need rest. We will gather the heads of the main houses on the morrow and discuss plans on how to put the Suneater to use in our struggle against the Burning Legion." With that, Thrall stepped down from his throne and approached Jake, who, lost in thought, didn't see him until a hand rested on Gasalyn's shoulder, causing him to start.

"I did not mean to startle you, princess." The basso rumble and massive girth up close caused Jake to freeze up with both awe and intimidation. Knowing it to be a more personal moment, Gasalyn moved forward and took control. Looking downward with real grief (which also hid the minute changes in her face), she breathed a sigh that was both respite at being able to use her own body again and sorrow for the loss of her friend. Gathering herself, she looked back up into the shaman's face.

"My apologies, Warchief, I was lost in thought." She spoke calmly, but her grief could be heard even through the grating of her undead voice.

"You owe no apology, princess; I know how long you have known Cor and how deep your friendship was with him. Your loss is our loss, but you feel it deeper, and I just wanted to personally thank you for bringing him among us. He brought much honor to the Horde and you were responsible for that." He stepped back and nodded, his eyes sorrowful but proud. Jake could feel the turbulent emotions within his host and admired how she kept her regal bearing nonetheless.

"Thank you, Warchief. He honored my choice with his courage and bravery, and I am glad that at least he died without shame and for a good reason." She nodded her head in a small bow of respect; from one leader to another. "Now with your pardon, I shall go get some of that much needed rest."

"Of course, princess, may you sleep soundly." He nodded in return and turned to attend others who wished some last minute business with their leader.

_Wow, that was… He was a lot nicer than I thought he'd be._ Jake's astonishment was wearing off as Gasalyn turned to head out of the audience chamber.

_He is a good leader and understands that trust and respect will gain him steadfast loyalty from his followers._ The simplicity of the statement spoke volumes about the Horde leader.

_I didn't mean to say he wasn't. It's just… well that's the first time I've met him and I've only ever seen him while he was fighting,_ Jake explained helplessly, knowing it could lead to more confusion. He was spared any explanation as Masharret caught up with them.

"What was all that about, Jake?" She spoke low, though most of the crowd had dissipated.

"It was a personal conversation between the Warchief and me, although I'm beginning to wonder if I will ever have that kind of privacy again." Irritation edged into the retort, and she stopped. Pinching the bridge of what was left of her nose, she faced a confused Shelly with a sigh.

"Please, I know this has been trying for all of us, but I need some rest." She opened her eyes and looked at her friend with a furrowed brow. "Please let Masharret inform you of the relevant details and then get some rest yourself. I have a feeling things will get worse before they get better."

_They always do,_ Jake chimed in without sarcasm.

* * *

_**T**_he scent of burning wood and the crackle of the fire consuming it edged its way through the darkness, slowly coaxing the young Night elf back from unconsciousness. With a start, she sat up, her eyes flying open but focusing on nothing except a figure approaching and quickly sitting by her side. Startled, she flailed and cried out as powerful hands grasped her shoulders holding her still.

"Easy, young one." The deep baritone of the voice immediately caused her to fall into the sturdy grip and allow herself to be lowered back to the bed. A sob of relief escaped her as she realized where she was and who she was with. Opening her eyes again, the rugged features of Malfurion swam into view, a look of concern marring his otherwise calm visage. Seeing his unexpected visitor had regained her senses as well as her awareness, the ancient Night Elf sat back and folded his hands in his lap.

"That must have been some vision I caused you, little one." The apprehension in his voice was accented by his slightly raised eyebrows.

"You caused…" her voice rasped in surprise, and then a fit of coughing overtook her, causing her to fall back once again. Reaching his hand over and placing it on her forehead, he closed his eyes for a moment, and the outburst receded.

"Slow," he soothed. "Just breathe for a moment and then drink some of this." She opened her eyes to see him handing her a small cup of dark, pungent liquid.

"What is it?" she whispered, cautiously pulling herself into a sitting position and taking the proffered drink.

"Tea," he answered simply with a smile as he got up to go check the fire. An embarrassed flush crept over her features, and she was grateful he had turned away when he did. Although as she sipped the hot beverage, it occurred to her that it had probably not been accidental. Being as old as he was, she was sure his social graces were more than well developed; and as the first sip of the tea hit the recesses of her stomach, she was pleased to find that his brewing skills were equally impressive. It was just hot enough to disseminate the spicy, bittersweet flavor over her tongue but not so hot as to scald it. Taking another sip, she could also feel a comfortable tingling in her throat that she identified from her priestly training as a healing remedy at work. With much less trepidation, she sat a little straighter and attempted speech again.

"Thank you, Shan'do, for both the tea and your gracious hospitality." Her voice still had a slight rasp to it, but she could tell it would be completely gone in minutes.

"Please, call me Furion young." He rose from the fire and turned with a genuine smile of amusement. "And your name if you please so I can stop calling you 'young one?' I find it to be demeaning regardless of my age."

"Vyerna," she replied quietly while trying to hide the elation she felt at the show of respect from one so highly esteemed.

"No family name?" He tilted his head quizzically.

A trace of sorrow marred the momentary euphoria as she looked away. "I was orphaned during the last war and left in the city of Stormwind."

The creaking of boards was her indication that he had walked over to sit with her, and then a hand on her shoulder made her let out a soft sigh. Sitting down next to her, he spoke, "Sadly, Vyerna, it is the way of war to leave homes shattered and families destroyed. Although I know it to be a futile effort, it is why I try so hard to avoid battle and attempt a peaceful solution whenever I can." There was no condescension in his voice, only a deep sadness and even deeper understanding.

"Now," he began as he stood to go pour himself a cup of the tea, "you didn't come here to dredge up your past with an old druid, so let's get back to why you **are **here, namely that vision. I can assume it's not the first you've had, judging by those eyes of yours, but I'm guessing it was one of a possible few very powerful ones you have experienced recently."

Her amber eyes widened in amazement. "How could you know all this-" she started and then remembered his original statement that had caused the bout of coughing. "And how could you cause one of my visions to occur?"

He smiled knowingly, the green flame of his immortal eyes dancing slightly higher with amusement. "You don't live for as long as I have and not figure out a few mysteries concerning the natural order." He admonished benevolently.

"Oh." She reddened once more with shame at questioning this legend standing before her.

Changing the subject smoothly so as not to bring attention to her embarrassment, Malfurion walked to the door and retrieved the staff she had been carrying when she arrived. "Your robes and this mark you as a priest, if I am not mistaken. What led you to this decision?"

Clearing her throat and once again seeing the smoothness with which he handled everything, she gratefully took the cue. "It was a few things, but mainly just a desire to help without hurting or destroying if possible."

"Ah," he nodded, obviously pleased. "A student after my own heart; a refreshing choice in this time of discord and violence." He paused a moment, letting his words have the desired calming effect on his guest, then continued, his voice still quiet and soothing. "So, when did you start to have the visions?"

She bowed her head and wrapped her hands around the cooling cup of tea. "Young; I am not exactly sure of the age, but it started with just voices in my…" She gasped and looked quickly up at the primordial Night Elf and then down at nothing as she searched her mind for the presence she had so easily forgotten. _Tan-ya_… She heard no response and dropped the cup, letting tea splatter the floor as she clutched her head in both hands. _TAN-YA!_

Malfurion was instantly kneeling at her side his eyes wide and searching. "Is it another vision, Vyerna?"

Looking up she shook her head. "No, but it is one of the reasons I came to you, another…" she stumbled verbally as she heard what she was saying and how it would sound. _Another what? Being? Person? Ghost?_ She struggled with the explanation for only a few seconds and then remembered who she was talking to. With one last '_tan-ya,'_ she sighed and started again as she laid her hands in her lap.

"There is another," she paused only for a second and chose the best word she could, "voice in my head, only it's not from a vision." She looked at him feeling vulnerable at the complete strangeness of the situation, and he just nodded patiently, knowing there was more.

"The voice belongs to another being… from another realm." She lowered her eyes, feeling foolish, and in that instant missed the look of absolute surprise that flickered in the green eyes of the ancient druid. Sensing the pause, she looked up, expecting to see at least mild disbelief, but found wonder and calculation instead. Her movement causing him to return from his thoughts, he looked into the golden eyes across from him with searching intensity.

"Is it still there?" he asked with an emotion she didn't recognize at first.

"I…I'm not sure, she only-"

"She?" he cut her off as he sat back in a chair next to the bed, and she realized that the emotion she heard in his voice was excitement. Not sure what to make of it, but feeling no anxiety about the sudden mood change, she continued.

"Yes, her name is Tan-ya, and I was only fully aware of her minutes before arriving here." The priestess could see a sliver of doubt creep into her hosts' eyes, and forestalling its bloom into disbelief, she hurriedly added. "She knew your brother to be the Betrayer." His eyes narrowed at the statement. "And with what happened in Goldshire, I assure you, Shan'do, this is not my imagination!"

At that his features smoothed in understanding and he smiled at the irony. "You misunderstand me, Vyerna. It was not you that I doubted, and it was my own self." He leaned forward in the chair at her confusion, scratching his beard. "You see, when you first fell across my doorstep, I felt this other one you speak of, but it was so brief as to make me believe I had felt nothing at all. Then with all my attention focused on your distress at having that vision, I had no time to think on the matter and forgot it until you brought it back to my attention just now."

Her shoulders sagged with relief, the fear of not being believed falling away like a stone. Then a new dread snapped her eyes back up to meet his.

"If neither of us can feel her presence any more, then what has happened to her?"

He sat back in the chair, a thoughtful look on his face, and pondered the question a moment. With a grunt he rose from the chair to refill their tea.

"I would suspect that when you had your vision, that as traumatic as it appeared to me, it must have been even more so for you, yes?" He knelt at the fire and began refilling the cups.

"I believe of all the visions I have had, this one was of the most violent sort, yes." She nodded with an involuntary shiver at the memory.

"And you have had numerous visions throughout your life, so you have become accustomed to them. This Tan-ya has not only shared this, your most aggressive vision yet, but she has shared it in a body not hers and in a world she is not from." He stood and turned, offering her another cup. "My guess is that it has somehow rendered her unconscious or she is lost in the recesses of your mind."

* * *

_**T**_he female Draenei's glowing blue eyes snapped wide, her jaw dropping in utter surprise. Her concentration broken, the glow around her clawed hands from the spell she had been preparing to set loose died in mid-cast. Her head shifted to look behind me, and she held up a hand, stepping forward.

"Li!" The commanding sound of the unfamiliar word led me to believe that she was telling the guards rushing up behind me to stop. Hearing their hooves slow to a walk, I felt a rush of relief from Shmee, and peripherally I saw them flank me to either side, their spears still held defensively. Bringing my hands up slowly, I gradually sat in a cross legged position in an attempt to be the least threatening I could be.

_What you be sayin' to her? I and I not be knowin' de words you said_. The mage's confusion was distracting.

_Not right now, my friend, I need all the concentration I can get to try to do this_. I could feel him immediately pull back as far as he could and give me full control.

Looking from the two guards and back to the now supplicant, yet still possibly dangerous troll before her, Ravenbear took a few steps forward and spoke.

"Goiben un lo va." Her voice, though alluring, was hesitant, and I still didn't understand her as I had hoped. I was playing a hunch and gambling with both my host's and my life in doing so. Within the game that I had played for so long, it was almost impossible for the Horde and Alliance characters to speak with one another intelligibly. On rare occasions when members of the two factions joined forces, it was possible they would become familiar enough to learn one or the other's language. Allegiances and racial hatreds aside, the different dialects were difficult and took many months to gain a basic understanding. This held doubly true for trolls and Orcs, as the language was meant to be spoken around the inherent tusks. My hunch was that since I had played the game from both sides and knew the Alliance spoke a common language, it would be similar to my own. If I could just concentrate and hear her with just my conscious mind and not filtered through troll hearing, I would be able to understand. I knew that I had forced the common speech from Shmee's mouth from her reaction, so after summoning a calm I didn't feel, I attempted again.

"I – am – not – your – enemy." I deliberately spoke each word slowly, pausing in between, to keep from slipping into Shmee's accent, which I guessed to be the Troll dialect.

Both the spear-wielding sentinels gasped in shock, looking at the mage for some sort of conformation that she had heard the same thing. Ravenbear looked back at them with a bewildered expression and then returned her gaze to me. Taking a shuddering breath, she tried to speak again, and I closed my eyes to block out everything else in hopes that I would understand her.

"How do un var ki speak nu tongue?" A sigh of pure relief escaped me as I opened my eyes and looked at the Draenei. It was working, and the slight flicker of her eyes told me she saw the recognition on my face. I nodded once in satisfaction.

"Long – story," I said slowly with a small grin and saw a smile of her own tug the edges of her blue lips.

_She understood that one_. An ironic grin curved wider around my tusks, and I tilted my head. Her face became hesitant again, and I realized exactly how menacing a troll smile could be. I quickly raised my hands again, dropping the smile and bowing my head slightly.

At that moment, I heard more clattering hooves as some of the guards from deeper in the tunnel came to see what was going on. The two beside me shouted to them with reassurances that it was under control. I only caught some of what they said even with my newfound understanding, but it was enough to know that we were still in no immediate danger. I looked back up at Ravenbear who was still staring at me in wonder, but it was now mixed with thoughtful consideration. After a few more moments, she nodded her head, apparently coming to some internal decision, and spoke to the gathering of Draenei guards.

"This troll vi bis no harm, I ko lidden personally and will govien ki to see Velen." The command in her voice seemed to be something she was used to having followed, and the effect it had on the guards proved it. They surrounded the both of us, but brought their weapons back to their sides, removing any imminent threat. The mention of the name Velen brought back the conversation I had with A'dal and also the understanding that I was to be escorted back into The Exodar. Velen was the revered prophet and leader of the Draenei people. The thought of being escorted with him through the purely Alliance city, one hostile to any member of the Horde, was intimidating to say the least.

_I not be knowin' what either of you be sayin,' but we be alive, and dat's a start. What be goin' on now?_ To his credit, my counterpart was keeping a calm I didn't think I would have been able to had our roles been reversed; one that was about to be tested with the answer to his question.

_We're going back into the Exodar to meet with Velen, and if I'm right, it's under the protection of Ravenbear_. I cringed internally, waiting for his response. While I waited, my new sponsor in allied territory stepped toward me with much more confidence and offered her hand. Her face was calm and showed none of her previous hesitation as she nodded for me to accept, but it was still not completely friendly. Nodding in return, I placed my hand in hers and rose as Shmee answered.

_I and I trusted you wit me friend's lives, and you kept them safe._ I winced at the thought of Cor and promised myself to discuss that with Shmeegun later as he continued. _A'dal judged you t'be worthy of her trust, and you trusted me to get us dis far. You be doin' wat need to be done, Marc. I bein in no place t'do anyting here, anyway. Somehow you be knowin' dis place and dis Draenei, and you be gettin her t'help us. You provin' you be worth my trust, so I be trustin' ya. Now go and luck bein' wit ya._ He finished, and I felt a surge of confidence from him before he receded once again.

_Thanks, Shmeegun, I won't let you down, my friend._ I suffused this last thought with all the assurance I could muster as I looked down at Ravenbear and realized just how intimidating I could be. With her horned head just barely reaching my chest, I stood almost a full two and a half feet taller, and that was with the famous slouched posture all trolls had. I knew that if I stretched to my full height, I would gain at least another couple of feet. That thought in mind, I stayed slouched and gave no resistance when she pointed to the ornate dagger at my side with a gesture to hand it over. I did so with care, as I knew it to be a powerful weapon, and when her hand closed around it, I heard her gasp; its energies recognizing another mage, it suffused her with its arcane power. She looked up at me with new respect from one practitioner of the arts to another and pointed at the blade.

"I will not vor anything happen ir this. I will return it ki qu when I can." It was getting easier to comprehend her, and I nodded in understanding.

"I – am – grateful – to – you." Speaking was still difficult with troll vocal chords trying to accommodate a language they weren't meant to speak, but her nod and small smile returning was enough to assure me that the message was clear. Since it wasn't painful to do so, I was pretty sure I wasn't damaging my host's body, and as it only required me to concentrate and speak slowly, I decided to continue.

"Can – we – speak – before – we – see – Velen?" I swallowed hard at the effort of more than a few words.

She motioned to the guards, and we began to head back to the entrance of the stronghold. She kept silent until we reached the entrance, and though her eyes gave nothing away with their emanating solid blue light, the furrow on her brow showed the consideration she was giving the question. As we passed though the massive archway, she looked back up at me searchingly and spoke.

"I can give us a ko time, but there vi be guards with us." She sounded firm, but slightly apologetic. I nodded as we started back down the ramp I had raced up a lifetime ago.

"Nothing – to – hide." The thought of what I was already hiding jumped on the heels of that statement with a vengeance. _Well, other than that_, I thought to myself with chagrin ,_ and let's hope that doesn't need to be brought up here._

The rest of the trip down the ramp was in silence except for the clank of armor and clop of hooves. All those who patrolled and guarded the ramp were surrounding us; it was when we reached the lower part and came into full view of the main floor of the Exodar that things changed dramatically. Those patrolling the main floor as well as all the myriad of vendors and residents eventually caught sight of the large troll escorted by one of their own females and surrounded by guards. The initial reaction was one of disbelief and shock, which quickly lead to murmurs, pointed fingers, shoulder tapping, and eventually some outright shouting. As we were already surrounded by guards, no one seemed overtly worried or anxious about my presence; however, I could easily see the looks of disgust, fright, and, in some cases, outright hatred. I could also feel Shmee's trepidation and the instinctive need to defend himself with his magic slowly rising.

_Easy, my friend, I know this looks bad, but hold on a little while longer._ I backed my thought with another burst of assurance and then turned my attention outward once more as we arrived at a collection of stone tables and benches; it looked like a rustic outdoor patio of a coffee house or restaurant. My host motioned for me to take a seat, and I grinned, slightly shaking my head at the comparison as I did. _Some things must be universal for all similar cultures_. I kept my grin hidden so as to avoid explanation of something so trivial. Ravenbear rounded the table and motioned to one of the guards as she sat across from me. Leaving the circle, he went off on his errand and the rest closed ranks to face outward, giving my companion and me some semblance of privacy. I folded my hands on the table in front of me with no small relief and realized just how tired I was. Even in a body as strong and healthy as this one, the constant strain of the last few hours made sitting down amazingly comfortable, and my shoulders sagged in response.

"You are tired." Her voice was steady with the surety of the statement. I looked up, nodding, to see her in almost the same position, except she was sitting upright. She remained motionless for a few minutes; her expression gave away little except that she was thinking hard about something. The sound of the guard's armor rattling brought my attention off to my right, and as they parted, I was surprised to see a stocky female dwarf dressed in plain white robes step through. She was carrying a pitcher and two cups on a tray and set them on the table between us. Stealing glances at me past the braids hanging down as she leaned over, she poured what looked to be plain water into the cups and then replaced the pitcher, turning to my host as she did so.

"Do you or your… guest need anything else, Shan?" Her question was formal, but I could tell she wanted to be anywhere else right then. I was still glad that I could understand her and guessed that 'Shan' was a formal title of some sort.

"Thank you, Jura, the water will be enough." She smiled at the dwarf in thanks and as she turned hurriedly to leave, Ravenbear called her once more. Stopping, she turned back before the wall of guards parted and waited expectantly.

"Your bravery is appreciated as well as your manners; I will not forget this, Jura." The robed dwarf smiled at the Draenei and stole one more glance in my direction before hurrying off. I looked down at the cup and then at the mage across the table, who was lifting hers in toast and taking a hefty swallow. With that show of faith, I drained mine, and was rewarded with the taste of cold clear water soothing my aching throat. As I set my cup down, I found Ravenbear leaning forward on the table with a very serious look on her face.

"Before you say anything, I would like to see if I can clear a few things up without you having to respond, as that seems to be difficult for you. A simple nod 'yes' or 'no' will suffice for answers, and seeing as how we have created quite a spectacle, I am sure time is short and we will be meeting with Velen regardless of what you might have to say to me." Her demeanor was urgent, but suffused with confidence, and I nodded in ascent.

"First, I would ask how you arrived here, but after thinking on it, I believe it was something to do with the portals in Shattrath and the problems that have arisen with them of late." My surprise at her knowledge of this was obvious as I nodded a yes, and then I silently admonished myself, realizing that she was a mage, and those portals went to all the major cities both Alliance and Horde.

"It suspected that this could happen; a member of the Horde arriving mistakenly in an alliance city or the reverse, but it had not been known or reported until now." I could feel her excitement about the discovery, although she kept it wisely subdued in the current circumstance. I silently told my internal counterpart the news of their knowledge about the portals and received a response similar to my realization.

"Secondly, I would know how you speak common, and again after consideration, I can assume that you have had some contact with the Alliance forces in the past. For what reason I cannot know, but you learned the language in this way." Her reasoning was sound and showed her to have an unusually open mind as well as no lack of intelligence. I repeated her deduction to Shmee and asked if he ever had worked with someone in the Alliance.

_No, mon, we trolls be to frightenin' to dem in da Allies._

Only hesitating for a moment and feigning partial understanding of her statement, I quickly nodded. The explanation would serve, and trying to explain it any other way would be futile. She nodded back, satisfied with the answer, and then continued.

"When I first saw you by the flight master and you spoke, I wasn't sure what you had said and asked you as much. I believe now that you didn't understand me so I ask you again; what did you say?" There was a look on her face that belied the question, as if she almost didn't want me to answer because she already knew. I took a deep breath and decided in that moment to trust my intuition about this alien being before me. She had given me nothing but trust from the moment the first words were understood, and she deserved no less in return.

_Can things get any more complicated?!_ I thought as I leaned forward and lowered my voice.

"Your – name – Raven – bear." The look of disbelief on her face was only matched by the effort not to let it turn to outright fear. She lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper.

"I have never met a troll in my life, nor have I reached a point in my training where my name would be known to the Horde for any reason." Even with her considerable poise, a tremor of fear leaked through as she asked, "How could you know my name?!"

"Can – not – explain – now." I reached over and covered one of her hands with mine, startling her only for a moment. "Please – keep – between – us." Removing my hand, I sat back as the sound of more people approaching became obvious. She stared in anxious confusion for a few more moments and then nodded with a resolved look. One more quick nod to convince herself of the decision, she stood to greet the arrivals.

The guards parted as a whole new detachment marched up, bearing much more ornately worked armor and weapons. The glimmer of magic enhancements showed here and there from weapon or armor plate, and the Draenei occupying them had the feel of seasoned veterans handpicked to protect the ancient one at the head of the column.

"Greetings, most honored one." Ravenbear was all business and confidence. "We have an unusual guest of whom I have vouched safe passage while within these walls."

I kept my surprise internal at the statement, but was more assured than ever that I had chosen correctly to trust her. Velen's eyes narrowed only slightly as he heard the statement and turned from looking at me to address her.

"How has this happened, young mage, and what reason would you have to vouchsafe one of the Horde in the Exodar?" His voice was rich and compelling; even if I had not been able to understand him, it would have been a pleasant sound.

"I believe he has mistakenly arrived here through the problems with the portals." He raised a single eyebrow at the response.

"My guards tell me he was caught near the flight master and that you were speaking with him when they arrived." He turned and fixed his gaze on me. "I have heard of no troll appearing here as all others do from the portals." He returned his expectant gaze back to Ravenbear.

"He is a mage, most venerable one, and the more powerful of which have the ability to be invisible for a time." I could tell she was thinking almost as fast as she was speaking and showing her intelligence. "If no one saw him arrive, it's conceivable that he did not wish a confrontation and tried to leave as quickly and discreetly as he could."

Velen tilted his head for a moment, considering what she said, then spoke again. "What would lead you to believe that a member of the Horde would not wish a confrontation regardless of the odds?" He remained skeptical, but willing to listen, and I could see why he engendered the loyalty of his people.

Ravenbear stood helpless for a moment, a newfound trust and old loyalty conflicting inside until she turned to look at me with a sigh. For just a moment, fear gripped my insides, but then she spoke as much to me as to Velen.

"He told me he was not my enemy." Then she turned back to the ancient prophet as my gut unfurled and held up my oversized dagger. "He relinquished this without question and has been nothing but cooperative in the extreme." The old Draenei took the weapon from her hand as he looked at me with a new scrutiny.

"This is a Scryer blade," he spoke directly to me with a slight accusatory tone. "How did you come by this?"

Keeping my calm so I wouldn't falter, I took a breath. "Earned – It." I spoke slowly but firmly, and Velen let his surprise only show in a slight widening of the eyes.

"Is this young mage correct in her assessment of how you got here and how you got out as well?" he asked calmly as he handed the blade back to her, and I nodded in response. He continued his searching for a few moments then turned to his personal guard. "I have dealt with honorable members of the Horde in the past, and I will trust this young one's judgment as well as my own. This troll is not to be harmed by any within these walls while he remains here." The guard detail gave a synchronized salute, and then marched off to spread the news, taking the rest of the guards with them. When they had left, Velen turned back to my guardian. "We must send word of this to the mage council as soon as possible. If this happens again, it might not turn out as well," he turned to look at me with a pause before finishing, "on either side. In the meantime, we three should speak privately." He turned back to the young mage, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Your friend here is much more than he appears to be."

I gaped in astonishment, my tusks actually clacking on the stone table beneath me as my jaw dropped. Velen turned, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Worry not. O'ros told me of your arrival and has spoken with A'dal as well. The theatrics were to assure that those here would see you could be trusted, and in that, be safe."

Ravenbear was aghast. "You knew all along?"

"Yes," he responded simply. "Now let us all retire to my chamber, as it is past moonrise, and finish this discussion before all this hard work turns to naught."

* * *

_**A**_s the zeppelin slid in to dock with the dilapidated-looking tower, Harley gave the surrounding forest another look and shuddered. The foliage of Tirisfal Glades consisted mostly of trees resembling evergreen trees . Generously distributed among them were remnants of other conifers long dead, their trunks hollow and rotting. What branches were left creaked and groaned ominously and, with each breath of wind, threatened to break off and fall at any moment. Night had fallen on during the flight, and the sounds emanating from the wood stirred his memory of every horror movie and nightmare he had experienced.

Hearing footsteps approaching, he turned to see Joe approaching with a quizzical look, distorting his already macabre features.

"What is it?" he asked, his concern genuine.

"This place," he paused, looking away to hide his embarrassment. "It's always given me the creeps," he muttered just loud enough for Joe to hear. After a few moments of silence, the Tauren lifted his head to look at the rogue and found him staring in disbelief.

"Not a word," he said, pointing a finger as the little black-clad figure clapped his hand over his mouth, stifling his laughter.

_I too am a little amused at your fear. Although when I was younger, this place frightened me as well._

Spinning around with eyes wide, Harley looked for the source of the voice. The sudden movement caused a swift reaction from the rogue as the Tauren heard the scrape of his blades leaving the scabbard.

_Tell Radamantis, or whoever that is, to put his blades away; there is no threat here_.

Turning back to look at his friend, Harley stood for a few moments as what was happening sunk in. Seeing that Leani was at the bow of the ship, he lowered his voice.

"Put 'em away, Rad, it's just…" Lacking any words to explain what was happening, he pointed at his head with two quick jabs of his finger. A perplexed look formed on the rogue's face.

"What?" he whispered fiercely.

"Remember what we were talking about in Duskwood, you know, about the people that own these bodies?"

Joe started to nod, then his eyes widened as he realized what was happening. He opened his mouth to ask something when the rhythmic clang of Leani's boots on the deck caused them both to look her way. It took a moment for them to realize that she was preparing to disembark the zeppelin and not approaching them specifically. Quickly stepping aside to allow her to go first, Joe covered his momentary surprise with a small bow and received a murmured thank you and a strange look from the warrior. Giving Harley a knowing glance, the rogue followed her off, and, realizing he would raise her suspicion if he just stood there, Harley fell in behind them. As they made their way down the spiral platform that curved its way around the outside of the dilapidated tower, the voice spoke up once again.

_How is it that you have come to be in control of my body? _

"I-" Harley began in a desperate whisper, but Nutharen cut him off quickly.

_No, it was not a question to you as much as a statement. I have been listening to you and Radamantis speak, and I believe now it was not intentional._

Guessing he didn't need to speak aloud, Harley kept his comments internal. _Why haven't you said anything before this?_

_At first I thought it was some sort of new priest spell, and since I was still able to think, I was hoping for a chance to overpower you. That moment outside of Goldshire when I spoke for myself gave me hope that it was, but that was fleeting as you regained control once more. Later as you and Radamantis conversed, I realized that whatever had happened was much more complicated. Not all of your words made sense so I decided to learn what I could before trying anything else. I was still unsure you would be able to hear me if I spoke until I did._ The low tone of Nutharen's voice was tinged with irritation, but Harley could tell that he was genuinely confused as well as concerned for both himself and his guest.

They continued walking during the conversation, and any response Harley had for his inner voice was cut short as they came to the entrance of the Undercity. Once known as the castle of Lordaeron, the sheer size of the monolithic structure made conversation impossible as both he and Joe stopped short with mouths agape. As many times as they had been there and seen it on a computer screen, they were not prepared for the reality of an actual medieval castle assaulting their senses. The stonework and ramparts soared to an indeterminable height, and the archway leading into the castle proper was not only enormous but also foreboding. Despite the magnificence of the construction, it was also overlaid heavily with a feeling of great loss and even greater helplessness. The history of the place was long and sordid with great and benign royalty losing the ever present battle with power and all it accoutrements.

_You had better move along; I think Leani will find your reaction somewhat suspicious._ Nutharen's voice spurred Harley to look down to see that Leani had turned back and was looking at the both of them with obvious confusion and a twang of suspicion. Hearing a chuff at his side, he looked down and found that Oreo to had been looking at him with a tilted head, confusion clear on his reptilian features. Without even looking, he gave Rad a swat on the arm, getting a quick, "Ow, wha… oh," and started toward the massive entryway once again. Shaking her head, Leani resumed her stride into the courtyard.

The wide open space was dominated by a statue standing on a platform that sat in the center of both the courtyard and the cobblestone pathway that ran down its center. Broken and decayed, pieces of its stone limbs littered the dais, and whatever regal visage had once been carved into the rock face had long since corroded, forming a blank mask. To the left and right of the effigy, offset by impromptu graveyards, were stone stairways that led up to stone enclosures whose purposes had been forgotten. The stairway on the right held a familiar contraption that Harley recognized as a sphere of transportation that sent the user to the Blood Elf city of Silvermoon. Looking like an ornate version of a common classroom globe, it had a golden base some four feet in diameter with the outer arms flared and fluted designs.

As they followed Leani into the main chamber of the fortress, Rad was suddenly bombarded with memories of all the history he had learned of Lordaeron. They were standing in the throne room where Arthas had murdered his own father, King Terenas II, and sent the kingdom into turmoil, eventually bringing about the collapse of the realm. He remembered the fall of Stratholme and Andorhal as the plague had swept its way like a vicious hurricane across the countryside. Subsequent to the fall, the high elf Sylvanas Windrunner won back the underground parts known as the Undercity, which became the stronghold of the undead Forsaken, the race to which his host was a part of.

As they approached the elevators that would take them to the lower levels, Harley began to snort and shake his head, blinking and squinting his eyes.

"What is it?" Joe asked, the concern in his voice apparent.

"You don't smell that?" the Tauren asked in disbelief.

In response, Joe simply pointed at the hole that represented where a nose had once existed, his eyebrows raised as if to say, "Duh."

"Right…" Harley half growled then, looking back up in the direction he was headed, he stumbled just a little with a whispered, "Holy shit."

They were headed down the ramp to the elevator doors, and on either side stood two monstrous parodies of living beings. Known only as abominations, they fully lived up to the moniker with their pasty white skin and gaping, bloodless wounds. Standing around eight feet in height (Joe guessed them at around six or seven hundred pounds), the frightening guards of Undercity sported random extra appendages, all bristling with some manner of oversized cleaver or meat hook. Even though he couldn't smell anything, Joe could guess what was causing Harley's earlier breathing issues as random belches spewed forth from the deformed mouths, and green vapors seemed to issue forth from the massive slashes and half-stitched up lesions that covered their bodies. When they got to the door, the massive sentinels, much to Joe's relief, seemed to take no notice of them.

Next to the door, sticking out of the floor, and running along the wall up about four feet was what looked like a metal tube that Leani struck with the pommel of her dagger. A sharp tone rang out, quickly followed by another one from below, and then the sound of massive gears grinding together brought both Joe and Harley to a realization. Unlike the ones in the game, it seemed that the elevators there were actual mechanical devices, most likely a pulley system of some sort, and the hollow tube was a way to alert the people below that someone needed to use it. It brought an almost audible sigh of relief from both of them as thoughts of the many times they had died in the game from the unpredictability of these very same elevators resounded in their minds. So well known was the danger that an entire guild had named itself the Undercity Elevator Victims! A name that had brought a chuckle to everyone's lips held a completely different meaning in the reality Joe and Harley were starting to grow accustomed to.

Reaching the bottom of the shaft with no fatal incident, the three of them stepped out and were greeted by a scholarly looking undead dressed in multi colored robes with the hood pulled up, keeping its face completely hidden.

"Lady Leani," a male voice gouged itself from under the hood, "it is good that you are here."

Apparently as surprised as they were to be addressed by anyone in the Undercity, the warrior was going to step past the wizened undead, but stopped short in her tracks to face him.

"What business do you have with me, sage?" Her voice showed little of the surprise, keeping the air of command.

"My apologies, I know you are always on important business for your house, but this is an unusual circumstance that requires your attention." He dipped his head slightly, hands clasped in front of him in respect. "One of the abominations has been asking to speak with Masharret, the warlock of your house."

The look of confusion was hard to miss, even on her cadaverous face, and both Joe and Harley were just as taken aback at the mention of the name. A quick look passed between them, conveying the obvious question about their friend, then looked back at Leani. It was a moment before she found her voice again. "What would one of those creatures want with her?"

"I know not, warrior. All I can tell you is that it was very specific about talking only to her, which is what has made this situation so unusual and not a little intriguing."

"I thought their kind were made only to serve and were unable of independent action." The question, surprisingly, came from Harley, but the depth of the voice clued Joe into the fact that it was Nutharen doing the talking for the moment.

Turning the shadowed cowl toward the Tauren, the sage answered, "It is very unusual for one of the constructs to show a will of its own, but this is not unheard of. There are a few examples of one of them gaining enough insight to become self-realized, such as Lieutenant Murp of Alterac Valley."

Raising her hand to forestall any more questions, Leani regained her composure. "Whatever the reason, you were correct that I am on important business with little time to spare. This creature you speak of, where is it?"

"We have him in the Apothicarium for the moment. He only arrived here a short while ago, and we were pleased to find that you had arrived. I don't suppose the warlock is with you?"

"No, but I am headed to Orgrimmar once I am done resupplying here, and I do believe she will be there." Motioning for him to precede her, Leani stepped back. "Lead us then, sage. I'm sure Master Faranell will have some new concoction I could use while I'm there anyway.

As they followed the wizened undead further into the darkness, the hallway widened into the main district of the Undercity. The sheer immensity of the construct was overwhelming in its dark beauty. The pixilated version seen nightly did no justice to the reality of the gothic spires and twisting architecture spanning across the friends pane of vision. The central soaring hub, a giant rectangle that rose from the middle of the vast circular room, was bristling with Ogee, or molding with curves both convex and concave, that seemed to cry out with tortured glee. Bas reliefs of skulls, both human and otherwise, filled the sides and stared ominously at those passing by. The base of these contained a barred archway/window manned by translucent figures, constituting the bankers for the undead and any who needed their services. The outside ring of the room where the group stood was one big balcony with four equidistant staircases that lead down to a platform with the aforementioned windows. From there, two more sets of split stairs lead to the bottom floor where four more ramps were set under the initial staircases. They lead out to the outer rings of the city where each quarter resided. The architectural perfection and adherence to the number four seemed to echo the builders' need for order among chaos; an almost rebellious cry that, though undead, the Forsaken were still cognizant, still beings of reason and thought.

Leading them down one of the stairways and further still to the bottom, Leani began to cross over one of the bridges. Looking over the edge, Harley saw the bright almost luminescent green fluid he knew would be flowing beneath, and as its sickly sweet scent assailed his nostrils a question occurred to him.

"Your pardon, Leani," his basso voice rumbled.

She turned her head long enough to let him know she was listening, but continued walking.

"The liquid beneath this bridge, I have always wondered its origin."

_As have I_, spoke Nutharen within Harley's skull.

"It is a remnant from the last war," a coldness crept into her voice as she began, "spewed from the ziggurats the scourge used to blacken the land, it would kill every living thing it touched. Although I have never been certain why it is here in Undercity or where its continuous flow is from, I do know it is harmless now thanks to the combined efforts of Tirande Whisperwind, Jaina Proudmoor, and a master Alchemist whose name I never knew."

As they continued around the corner, Joe poked a boney finger into Harley's furred bicep, bringing his attention to the auctioneers up on their platforms. A small crowd gathered around them as they hawked their wares, and the Tauren looked back to Joe, unsure as to what he was showing him.

"Look behind them, on the wall," he whispered, his voice sounding like dead leaves rustling across pavement.

Looking back, Harley saw what he first thought was a child-sized undead scurrying back and forth behind the auctioneer. Then his eyes widened slightly as he realized it was an undead gnome that retrieved items that had been bought and brought them to their respective buyers. They passed closer to one of the diminutive helpers, and he realized that the 'box' being used to store the items was much too small physically to hold all of them, and theorized with amazement that some sort of dimensional magic was being used to hold everything for sale until it was specifically called out.

"The ultimate in safe keeping and convenience," Rad commented quietly when Harley looked back at him.

"Yeah, handy," the Tauren murmured, shaking his head in wonder.

_Why is that so strange to you_? Nutharen uttered in Harley's head.

_An explanation better left for when we have more time_, Harley thought back and almost heard the nod.

More wonders assaulted them both as they moved into the farthest ring of the city which held the four quarters, each devoted to a professional need. The War Quarter catered to those in need of heavy armaments and armor as well as training for those of the warrior class. The Magic Quarter boasted its share of mystical components and protective covering for cloth wearers as well as an arsenal more geared to those of the esoteric nature. Wand vendors teamed up with Staff merchants, and Enchanters bought components from stalls veritably glowing with potential power. A Rogue's Quarter held everything a good thief or assassin needed to do their dark deeds, from lock picks to flash powder to blind an enemy while they faded away.

The last was their destination, the Apothicarium; similar in architecture to the others, this quarter held one unique difference. Centrally located, a stairwell guarded by two sword-wielding undead guards lead to a winding hallway that ended in the throne room of Banshee Queen Lady Sylvanas and her consort, the Dread L ord Verimathras. Located in the lower part of the crypts, originally started by Arthas Menithil before he was overcome with vengeance and his allegiance sworn to the Lich King, Lady Sylvanas continued Arthas's building project beneath Lordaeron. Caught between the Scourge as potential slaves and the living who viewed them as abominations, the Forsaken held Undercity as their stronghold against an ever mounting number of enemies.

With the strange scents of the Apothicarium following them down, the trio descended into the workshop of Master Faranell. Remnants of past experiments, whether failed or not, were strewn about on various tables and book cases as well as the floor. Most consisted of bubbling potions, powders of every color and ornate-looking equipment, but there were a few spare body parts lying about, leaving no doubt as to the origin of the Abominations and their ilk. Two side chambers lead from the main room where the moans and cries of the current 'test subjects' wafted in like a rancid breeze. Chained to the floor at the wrists in the center of the room was the behemoth they had come to see. As Leani approached, the creature shuffled back a bit with a glint of fear in its yellowed eye. Possessing the abundant subtly of a warrior, Leani got straight to the point.

"Why is one of your kind looking for the warlock Masharret?" Her voice was firm but not unkind.

"I was…" It paused a moment, its glutinous voice ratcheting in its throat. "I was sent to give her a message."

As the conversation proceeded and the Abomination relayed its message, a pair of floating red eyes flared to life in the shadows, pulsing in anticipation.

* * *

_**V**_elen's eyebrows creased in thought, while Ravenbear stared at me with her glowing blue eyes conveying little. After much effort, I had relayed the event's that began with stepping into the portal in Shattrath and ending up in the Exodar. A few moments of silence passed, and Velen took a deep breath, refocusing his attention on me as well.

"So if what you propose is true, then you were somehow brought here through this – 'network,' as you call it, of portals from another universe?" His rich voice hummed with more interest than confusion.

"Actually the more I think about it, the more I believe it to be another reality all together."

The ancient Draenei's brow went up a notch. "Please, elaborate."

"Well where I'm from, and I believe that both Ravenbear and Shmeegun will find this interesting from a mage's perspective."

_I bein sure I will, mon_, he drawled in my head as the young Draenei nodded slowly, a half smile creeping to her lips.

"We have groups of people who specifically study the intricacies of how reality and the natural world work. It is split up into many different areas, but the one I refer to is called quantum physics. Now I am no expert in this area, and even if I was, attempting to explain it to you in any way that would make sense would take entirely too long. Suffice it to say that it deals with possibilities and potentialities; things that could be possible but due to the limitations of our race are only theories or ideas of merit." I paused for a moment to let that sink and rest Shmee's throat. The effort involved in the lengthy speech was taxing us both. I glanced between Velen and Ravenbear as I sipped some water with a look that invited questions, and the old sage smiled warmly.

"It is not so different from the use of magic. I believe we understand what you are saying so far, please continue."

I nodded and took a deep breath.

"One of the theories that these people have come up with, specifically a man named Bryce DeWitt, is that even though the size of the universe we live in is beyond comprehension, it isn't the only one that exists."

"Such as the realm of spirit?" Ravenbear piped up, her eyes flashing in understanding.

"That is similar yes, but it becomes more complex. For example in my reality, there is no such thing as magic."

The look of utter surprise on both Draenei faces was echoed by the grunt of astonishment inside my head.

"Although," I continued with a tusk-filled smile, "the things we do and how things function would probably seem like magic to any one of you."

"Yet you seem well accustomed to the ways of our world, Marc." Velen's voice was one of curiosity tinged with suspicion. "How is this?"

I couldn't help but chuckle, slightly embarrassed.

"What is funny about this?" Ravenbear asked, sounding a little insulted, and I raised my hand in supplication.

"Please understand, I mean no disrespect. There have been a number of times already where I have had to put off this exact explanation to my host here, and I laugh at the irony. The sheer paradox I find is that now, sitting here in this place in the body of one of your mortal enemies, I can now explain this."

The realization hit all three of my hosts first with surprise bordering on shock then quickly became peals of laughter. After a few breathless moments, we were all wiping tears from our faces, and Velen caught his breath first.

"Your point is well taken, young Marc, and I now understand your reaction." He paused again to fully compose himself. "I am more intrigued than ever now to hear your explanation, so please continue."

"Well," I began, lowering my eyes in embarrassment, "in my world your reality is… a game." I paused, and the silence stretched out until I looked up and saw bewildered looks on their faces.

"A… game? I don't understand. Do you mean a tournament of some sort?" The confusion in Ravenbear's voice was tinged with a raw fear.

"Well, sort of… You see, we ourselves don't physically participate; we create characters that we control…" The ramifications of what I was saying struck home suddenly, and I was aghast at the very idea of what I was trying to explain.

"Wait wait," squeezing my eyes shut and covering them with a large blue hand, I sighed. "This sounds much more horrible than it actually is, and I need to explain it better."

_Ja, mon, you do, cause it be soundin' like where you be from be controlin us like slaves_! I could hear the anger in Shmee's voice in my head being echoed by the voices of my hosts as they spoke similar concerns.

I rubbed my forehead in frustration for a minute then my eyes popped open as an idea struck me. "Shmee, you can read my thoughts right?" The two Draenei looked quizzically at me, and I realized in my excitement I had reverted back to Troll speak. I took a breath and concentrated once again.

"I am asking Shmeegun if he can read my thoughts, the personal thoughts of the person you now know as Marc." They both nodded in understanding, but the grim look they both held at my earlier statement had receded little. A short pause and my inner host spoke once again.

_No, mon. I had not tried before dis out of respect, but even when I be tryin I cannot. There bein a wall that be keepin me out of your head._

I pondered this for a moment as I shook my head to explain the negative results. I thought of all I had learned in college about psychology and the human mind. As intricate as it was, I knew a few basic principals had to apply here, and one of those was the barrier between conscious and unconscious thought. In other words, I had to be asleep for Shmee to be able to see what was in my head. The idea of letting someone, especially a being who up until about ten hours previous was fictional, loose in my head was not a comfortable thought. But I knew that the only way to explain this was to have him experience my memory of it firsthand. That still left me with the problem of getting it across to my other hosts, but I had a plan forming for that problem as well.

_First things first_, I thought. _Now to see how much trust I have really earned_.

"I have another idea, but this will take some trust from all of us if it is going to succeed." I was careful to sound as un-authoritative as I could without pleading.

Ravenbear took a step toward me, her mouth open to say something that her expression told me wouldn't be pleasant when Velen placed a restraining hand on her arm. Even with his eyes closed as he took a breath, I could still see a glimmer of the blue radiance emitting from the sockets.

"Since you first arrived here you have spoken with nothing but candor and respect. Despite the extraordinary circumstances, you have acted with honor and well-being towards us at every turn, and even though I have doubts, they are born of centuries of conditioning and are mine to overcome, not yours. Had you not met with Ravenbear at the flight master, you might have just as well been killed by the guards without question. You have shown great courage, and in that I **will** trust." He opened his eyes, and for a moment I could almost see the millennia of knowledge and hardship dim the light before he brought them up to focus on me and they shown with their normal radiance. "As I will now trust in you, young one, now what is your plan?"

I looked over at Ravenbear as she sat and nodded at me with a look of apology. I nodded back in understanding.

"I need you to put me to sleep," I stated simply. "There is a barrier that Shmeegun cannot get past while I am awake, and I believe that while I am asleep he will be able to pass that wall, see the things I have experienced, and understand."

"You mean to let him see the memories of your life?" Ravenbear questioned with trepidation. "All of it?"

_I will be knowin everyting bout you, mon… Everytin… Are you bein sure?_

"I don't see that have a choice," I answered them both. "We don't have the time for me to explain it all, and it's important that you understand why I know what I know about your world, if for no other reason than to justify the trust you have given me."

Velen nodded sagely, and then tilted his head quizzically. "This will still only help Shmeegun to understand, how will we…" I held up my hand.

"I have an idea as to how I can get you the same information, but let's see if this works first - then we can get to that." Velen smiled and nodded once more.

"Quite right, young Marc." He stood and went to some shelves where rows of many esoteric-looking items lay. Among them were a few small corked clay bottles, one of which he deftly snatched up and brought back to set on the table in front of me.

"A simple sleep draught, one I use when my mind will not quiet and let me rest." He sat back down as I retrieved the small container with care, lest my oversized hands inadvertently crush it. The momentary feeling of déjà vu overcame me as I thought of sleeping pills from my world and of how much fun sociologists would have comparing the similarities in the two cultures.

"Does it take long to work?" I asked, turning the bottle over in my hands.

"I would not be too far from a bed," Ravenbear said with a slight chuckle.

I looked up with a grin of understanding. I was glad she had gotten her sense of humor back. "Speaking of a bed," I looked around the room and saw only Velen's extravagant divan shrouded with gossamer drapes and thick animal hides for coverings through an alcove in the back. There was a couch within the room we sat, but being as large as a troll would make sleeping there problematic at best.

"Given the circumstances," Velen drawled with a half smile at my physique, "I will have a few cots brought in for the young Mage and myself while you take my chambers." Too tired to argue points of decorum, I nodded in thanks and hauled my bulk off the seat I had almost grown a part of. I staggered a little as I stepped away from the chair from fatigue, and Ravenbear was quick to grab my arm and steady me. I looked down at her over my blue pointy nose and tusks, blinking with surprise at the sudden contact.

"This could be a good sign if you are so quick to help a Troll from simply losing his balance, young Ravenbear." Velen said with obvious pride and not a little mirth as he saw her eyes widen in realization of her actions. It took her a moment to absorb and digest what had happened, and when she did, she took a firmer grip on my arm with a smile.

"Let us get you to the bed, my friend."

As she assisted me to the other room, and Velen left to find the aforementioned cots, Shmeegun spoke up once more.

_I be havin no idea where dis all be goin, Marc, but you be knowin if we survive I be havin a story no one be believin_! His full throated laughter rang in my skull, making me wince slightly .

_You're not the only one, my Rastafarian friend_, I thought to him with a bewildered sigh.

_Rasta…?_

_You'll understand if you get in this head of mine, I promise._

There was a mental shrug, and Shmee seemed to set about preparing himself for the forthcoming ordeal. Raven had me sitting on the bed and had gone to retrieve the bottle of sleep medicine. In the few moments before she got back, I spoke once more to Shmee with a reluctant seriousness.

_I know you understand the gravity of what we are about to do, my friend, but I want you to be warned; I had the luxury of having a general knowledge of what your world was like when I got here, and figured out where I was. You will have no such foresight, and, as disconcerting as it has been not being in control of your body and sharing it with me, the contents of my mind will be much more disturbing to you. Do what you can to focus in on memories pertaining to something called World of Warcraft. With any luck, that will reduce your disorientation and keep you from being overwhelmed and possibly getting lost._ I sighed again as Ravenbear returned, uncorking and handing me the bottle.

_I an I understand, my friend. I be doin what I can to be respectin de trust you be givin me by lettin me do dis ting. I not be wantin to be lost in der wit no chance to be seein my friends again._

I was just about to drink when the mention of friends made me pause. I looked up at the Draenei mage with a twinkle in my eye as one side of my mouth tugged into a half grin. She tilted her head, a confused sympathetic grin crossing her features. "What is it?" she asked hesitantly.

"Can you get a hold of an Orb of Deception?"

"I… I believe there is one in the mage tower in Stormwind, why?" Her unease at giving up this kind of information was clear, but her trust in me combined with sheer curiosity overrode the intrinsic distrust of dealing with a member of the Horde.

"If we get past this current obstacle, then I will tell you. In the meantime, do what you can to get it as soon as possible. Tell them what you need to, but be sure to keep this within our little circle as much as you can. I'm sure this world is not without its fanatics and beings of less open-mindedness than you and Velen, and the trouble they could cause would make an already difficult situation near impossible." She helped me lie down in the unfamiliar bed, a sad light of understanding clouding her features.

"Yes," she nodded slowly, "you are correct; there are some who would not understand and use this knowledge for their own gain or just in fear. I will get the Orb; luck to you on your inner journey, Marc and Shmeegun." With that, she stepped back and began the familiar gestures and words for a teleportation spell.

"We both thank you," I said as she disappeared in a flash of light.

Looking again at the small container, I took a deep breath and thought, _Here we go, my friend. Luck to us both_. Then the contents were downed in a quick gulp. The taste was fleeting, but reminded me of Chamomile and smelled of Lavender.

_I be here when you be wakin, Marc. I and I be givin my word._

I just nodded as the potion took effect with speedy efficiency, and with a last thought for the safety of my friends, I passed quickly into dream.

* * *

_**T**_anya was lost and didn't know why. The last thing she remembered was the usual banter of a night at the computer with her friends on Warcraft, and then something had happened. A pain had enveloped her so completely that she couldn't even think. She was standing there in an endless plane of white mist, and if she tried to remember anything, frightening images would coalesce out of the vapor itself around her. Scenes of battle that encompassed the denizens of the mythical world appeared in three-dimensional Technicolor. The vision was complete with the sounds of humans battling, blades clashing, and the overwhelming roar of a huge tauren and his raptor. Then scenes changed, and she could see herself flying on some kind of bird, and a strange-looking, deep-voiced man with green eyes materialized, then faded. Dominating it all was the immutable power of a gargantuan demon that inspired fear that piercing her to the core and reaffirmed her need to do all she could to think of nothing at all. Finding nothingness too difficult to obtain, she began to grasp at memories: her first motorcycle, the name of her first pet, her nephew's smile, the day of her wedding, the smell of Marc's hair; anything that would keep the horror at bay.

After what seemed like an eternity of struggling to keep her sanity intact, she found herself gasping on the formless ground, shaking with the effort of keeping her mind blank and her fear from overwhelming her once more. Almost too quiet to believe she had heard it, a voice came from somewhere out in the fog. It was so soft she had to strain to hear it when it came again.

"Tan Tan-ya ya," the voice echoed with an almost familiar melodic lilt. She knew somehow that the voice was different from the visions she had been having. Something about it sounded… safe.

"Tan, Tan-ya ya." The voice was closer, but still directionless.

"Here," she croaked. "I'm here." Her voice was barely audible, but somehow seemed to carry though the mist. She heard the soft tread of light foot falls and turned her head to see a figure begin to materialize out of the miasma. It was a female; that much she was sure of by the shape, but as more of the outline became solid features, she began to fear that the visions were starting again. Although dressed in normal, archaic-looking clothing, the woman's features were definitely not human. Slender and fine boned, she walked with a quick assuredness to where Tanya lay and knelt by her head. Golden Irises stared out from under impossibly long, feathery eyebrows. The tilt of her eyes fit almost too perfectly on the slender face above the delicate nose, and small but pouting lips giving her an almost alien beauty. Completing the other-worldly metaphor was a set of overly-long, pointed ears that had drooped in an almost dog-like show of fear and worry.

"Please, Furion, let me not be too late," she pleaded as much to herself as to Tanya. The fluid tones of her speech soothed Tanya somewhat and helped her to gain a little more control of herself.

"Who…" she attempted to ask the obvious question, but her voice failed her once again.

"Just relax," she spoke softly, a smile of relief flooding her face. "I am Vyerna, and I am here to help you find your way back."

The shock of recognition was plain on Tanya's face, and the young Night Elf was pleased to see it.

"I know you must have many questions, but the answers will all come back to you soon enough," she stated to keep Tanya from wearing herself out needlessly, "and right now we need to get you safely back to us."

"Where are we?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but I believe it to be somewhere between your thoughts and mine."

"Thoughts?"

"Please just close your eyes. Relax and let me guide you back."

Hesitating for only a moment, the frightened woman closed her eyes and was immediately sluiced in warm silk. She slid along currents of soothing comfort, feeling as if she was floating in place, and the flow was passing by her. The calming effect made time meaningless, and at some indeterminate interval later, she realized she could hear the crackle of a fire and feel her heartbeat once again in her chest. She opened her eyes to find a pair of flaming green ones staring back. With a muffled shriek, she scooted herself backward into a sitting position, banging up against what she realized was the headboard of a simple bed.

"Easy there, young priestess. I seem to be causing you more distress this day than I ever caused Illidan." He spoke with a sure deep voice that kept her from leaping off the bed at a dead run. Coupled with the confident smile and easy-going manner, he engendered enough calm in her for a breath before it all started to come back to her.

"Malfurion Stormrage." She was surprised at her own voice and by the widening of his eyes saw that he had not expected it either.

"Tan-Ya, I presume." He recovered quickly. "I am glad to see Vyerna was successful in helping you back; I hope she is with you as well." His voice only held concern.

_Tell him I am here and well_. The voice in her head made her jump a little, but she was quickly regaining the memories of what had happened and hastily salvaging her composure.

"Yes, she says she is here and well, and I'm starting to remember why I'm here now as well. Although, why am I in control of your body now?"

_I felt that after your ordeal of being locked within your thoughts that it would be best to come back in this way_. The melodious voice sounded slightly doubtful.

"Yes, thank you. It was a bit disorienting, but I think coming to in your head might have been more difficult," she reassured her host.

_I am glad I made the right decision then_, she replied sounding very much relieved.

"I realize that you are conversing with Vyerna and am loath to interrupt," the sonorous voice of Furion brought Tanya's attention back to the room she was in, "but if I could speak with her again, I believe we can come to a much speedier resolution to this problem."

Tanya shuddered slightly at the thought of losing control of her limbs once more but knew that he was right. She slid to the edge of the bed to place her feet on the floor and faced the aged druid more closely as she extended her hand.

"Before I do, if I may, I would like to shake your hand. In my world you are a legend and to actually meet you in person is something I will remember for the rest of my life."

A quizzical yet slightly amused look crossed his features as he returned the grasp. "Your world?"

_Tell him I will explain when I speak with him_, Vyerna's voice interrupted Tanya's reply before she could begin.

Reverting to non vocal communication she asked, _How will you do that?_

_When I journeyed to find you, I spent much time within your thoughts and learned much about you and your world. A strange and frightfully wondrous place it is, Tan-ya. What little I have seen from your perspective is difficult to understand, but I am able to piece together some things; one of them being how you know the one called Radamantis. _The mention of her friend caused a wash of worry and fear for her friends. Sensing her turmoil, her host continued in a soothing tone. _Yes, and there is a good chance that all the others from that night are here as well. We will do what we can to find out; although them all being associated with the Horde will make things difficult. Right now we need to switch places so I can talk to Furion and tell him what I have learned. His centuries of knowledge and experience will help to guide us to a solution to this and other problems._

_I'm not quite sure how to do that. _

_Just relax as you did when we were in your thoughts, and I will do the rest._

Taking a deep breath, she let her chin drop to her chest, closing her eyes. She was abruptly pulled backwards to once again feel helpless, but no longer alone.

_Are you well?_ Vyerna's concern was palpable.

_Yes_. She drew strength from the fact that she knew she was in the hands of capable and kindly people. _I'm fine, thanks_.

_Good, then I shall speak with Shan'do, and if there is any clarification I need, feel free to stop me at any time._

_Go for it; I'm not goin' anywhere_, Tanya quipped, a smile in her voice that caused Vyerna to chuckle.

_When and if you do, my life will be the poorer for it, I think. You are a wonderful person, Tan-ya, and I hope to meet your Marc and tell him so._

The thought of her husband caused a moment of longing in her, but she was quickly brought back to the present as Vyerna began to relate all she had learned while inside the young woman's thoughts.

* * *

_**T**_he spray of blood was so sudden that it caught Joe and Harley completely off guard. Leani, however, reacted with the instinct of a born warrior and leapt back, readying her shield with one hand and drawing her blade with the other. Confronting them amid the ruptured remains of the Abomination was a sinuous cloud of black smoke with two burning coals for eyes. The attack had been so fast that the undead creature they had been interrogating had had no time to scream. Coalescing its form into a more humanoid shape, the wraith gave a hiss and launched toward the warrior with malevolent speed. Both Harley and Joe had fallen back a step to either side of the blasted remains so they were facing Leani when she slammed one of her booted feet onto the stone floor. The explosion of sound that issued forth very much resembled its Thunderclap namesake and left both friends reeling. The effect it had on the wraith was much more dramatic as the apparition swayed drunkenly in place and looked to be struggling to keep its form intact. Seizing the moment of respite, Leani gave a shout and swung the green crystal blade in a forward arc, and a lightning bolt sizzled forth, splashing the form of the wraith with crackling blue energy. Lines of electricity enveloped the phantom, causing it to throw its head back and issue a bone-numbing, high-pitched whisper of a scream. The gaseous form suddenly imploded, condensing the electricity into a spark, and then just as quickly, there was an almost silent explosion of black dust the covered everyone within a ten foot radius. As the dust settled and the coughing began, Joe heard the soft clicks of something small hitting the floor, and he looked to see two black, lifeless coals bouncing to a stop near the wall behind them.

Catching his breath after a few more explosive coughs, Harley was the first to speak.

"What the hell was that?!" he croaked out, his voice deep but choked with powder.

Leani looked at him with confusion. "Do you not recognize the wraiths of the Scourge?"

"No… I mean, yes, of course I knew what it was!" He coughed again to cover his mistake, then continued. "I mean, why was it here? What was the attack for, and how did it get this far into Undercity?!" His irritation at being though a fool was overriding his initial shock and fear.

"I'm not sure for certain." Leani looked back at the corpse of the Abomination, satisfied with Harley's explanation. "I would surmise that the information this creature was giving us had something to do with it. As to how it got in here; the specialty of the wraiths is stealth. Unless you are purposely looking for them, they are able to remain undetected indefinitely." She looked perplexed at the last thought, insofar as an undead face can show emotion.

"Yeah, but aren't they usually used for that reason alone?" Rad spoke up in a thoughtful but questioning tone. "If I am not mistaken, they are not very powerful, so why risk being destroyed when we didn't even know it was there? It could have easily left with the information it wanted, and we would have never known."

Leani nodded without taking her eyes from the mess on the floor. "I was just thinking the same thing, Radamantis. Something about this Abomination held special significance to whomever that wraith was spying for." She stood for long moments, pondering the situation before turning to Rad.

"The beast told us that he was supposed to have Princess Gasalyn travel to Hammerfall, correct?"

"Yes, but why meet in Hammerfall and why Gasalyn; for that matter, why an Abomination? They're built more for battle; it's not as if they are known for speaking in full sentences." The last comment got a chuckle from Harley, which in turn got a stern look from Leani. The Tauren just shrugged as she turned back to Joe.

"There are a few exceptions, but yes, using one of these," she indicated the decimated remains with a wave of her hand, "as a means of transporting information is very unusual." She turned once more to the body that was being picked at by the resident alchemists for any surviving, usable parts, and crossed her arms in thought once more. She stood only a moment before making a decision and turned on her heel motion the others to follow.

"We will bring this to the Princess herself and see what she thinks. Besides, getting back to Orgrimmar will give us a chance to convene with all the houses and see what other news there is. They might have information that we do not that will shed some light on this." Harley and Joe had no argument and followed along in silence as they traversed the corridors and stairways of Undercity once more. When they reached the front gates and started across the road to the flight tower, Leani spoke once more, but with a quiet longing.

"I'm sure all of us would all like to be home again in any event. I left my dwelling in such a hurry last time that I will need to clean it before even sleeping."

The simplicity of her statement and its reference to simple domestic necessity caused a pang of homesickness in both the companions as well as a new understanding of the beings of this realm. It brought yet another layer of reality to the unreal situation for them. The simple idea of cleaning up a household amongst all the magic, violence, and mythical beings surrounding them was like the sight of a ghetto in a major city. It made them both realize that some things are universal, and one of those things was the concept of Home.

Thinking of their homes, they crossed the platform onto the zeppelin and found a comfortable spot on the deck against the railing to rest while the ship got underway. As Harley stretched his legs out, Oreo flopped down beside him with a smack of flesh on wood and laid his fang-filled face on his lap, his tongue lolling out like a dog. A slight grin crossing his bovine face, Harley/Nutharen scratched the boney ridge ever one of the raptor's eyes, compelling a purr-like growl from the Theropod.

_He is a loyal companion and has been a good friend. I am glad you treat him with the respect he deserves_. The throaty voice from within didn't startle Harley as much any longer, but he still found sharing the space in his head a little difficult.

_Where I am from, these animals are extinct; millions of years before I existed, they were gone. I admit when I first met Oreo here, I was terrified. I mean the ones I know of were not tamable and were formidable hunters, so seeing one in the flesh for the first time was nothing less than nightmarish in the extreme_. A chuckle reverberated in his skull.

_Yes, well he __**is **__supposed to strike fear into his enemies_.

_He does that very well, I assure you_. He paused for a moment, still absently scratching Oreo, and then another question occurred to him. _How did you two actually… um… meet_?

Before he could answer, Joe interrupted with a whispered, "You talking to Nut?"

"Huh, oh, yeah… Talking about our not-so-little protector, here." He indicated the rumbling raptor with a bob of his chin.

"Yeah, Rad and I have been hashing out a few things as well, but I'm wrecked. Gonna try and get a nap in before we hit Org."

"Not a bad idea. I'll see if I can get a few winks after we finish. I'm sure the docking bell will wake us when we get there." Joe nodded in affirmation and leaned his head back against the rail while Harley apologized to Nutharen for the interruption. Shrugging it off, Nutharen began to spin a tale of high adventure, danger, and fantastic chance in the Arathi Highlands that gave Harley an even greater respect for both the pet raptor, his master, and exactly how difficult his life could be. As his lids became heavy, he thought of the irony of 'this life,' the one he now lived and had to survive to get back to his old one. With a last smile, he drifted off to sleep, and as with the others, he unwittingly opened his mind to his host, revealing an unfiltered wash of memories showing the truths of his world… and of the one he now resided in.


	6. Chapter 6

**5**

**Reunions and Reconciliations**

_**P**_ulling back his consciousness with an abrupt grunt, the demon smiled a toothy grin. Both his unwitting agent and his willing one had performed exactly as he had planned. With his stratagem in motion and the players coming together in good order, he prepared for the next part of his many-layered scheme. Stepping down from his enormous throne, he beckoned to one of the Fel Reavers that stood behind it, directing it to stand in his place. Using his innate power, he made a few simple gestures, and the air around the Reaver shimmered and distorted, changing the giant automaton to a perfect copy of its demon master. A few more simple commands, and the ancient devil felt assured that none but the most powerful could see through the illusion.

Turning from the doppelganger, the beast took a deep breath and stretched out its arms and wings to the fullest extension. Tilting its head back, he took in a deep breath and held it for a moment. Slowly releasing it, he began to retract all his limbs, gradually folding in upon himself. Bones began to crack and reshape; his wings receded into his back as his entire form began to shrink and change. His concentration absolute, he crouched slowly to match the speed of the change. Finally reaching an upright fetal position, he became the size of a normal human being. Standing slowly, he looked himself over with a nod of satisfaction. In the place of a demon lord stood a simple, if elegantly dressed, male human. Garbed in the outfit of the royal house of Stormwind, complete with decorative jewelry and light armament, the demon resembled any number of residents of Azeroth. Medium height and build, his head was topped with a close-cropped shock of blond hair that had a corresponding color mustache to match. The one feature that showed the true evil hidden within the unassuming construct was the eyes. Slit vertically like a snake's with their red, gold, and black coloration, there was no mistaking the vile intent they held. Knowing this, the creature simply donned the cross slit helmet that was part of the uniform with a less than human smile.

Taking one more look around at his handiwork, he spoke a guttural phrase and popped out of existence to reappear in a field full of ripe watermelons. A short distance away, a small, but well-kept house stood. Its windows ajar to let in the breeze and scents of the day, it presented the very essence of a human dwelling with all accompanying emotional attachments. Allowing himself a quick scowl, the demon in human clothing brought his attention to the real reason he was there. Just beyond the house, a small group of three people were gathered in a semi circle. As he approached, he could hear the sniffles and cries of the females; one young and one older, while the younger male stood in resolute silence. He resisted the urge to bask in the suffering of the humans and continued forward with a slight smile.

He was a few feet away and could see the burial mound before they turned at the sound of his footsteps. Tears streaked their drawn and haggard faces, and only the boy had enough control over his grief to speak.

"Greetings, Sir Knight of Lordaeron," his voice was high pitched and cracked with emotion, but he managed a respectful tone nonetheless.

"Gree…" His voice rumbled slightly, causing the boys eyes to widen somewhat, and he cleared his throat while admonishing himself for forgetting to change his voice.

"Greetings, young one," he began again, his tone more neutral. "My condolences on your recent loss," he finished somberly.

The boy and his mother nodded, while his sister merely clung to her mother's leg, hiccupping quietly.

"My apologies for interrupting, but I am gathering much-needed intelligence on Horde activities within Alliance territory, and I understand what has happened here pertains to that." He received blank, tired stares in response and sighed.

"This man died because a member of the Horde attacked him?" he asked patiently.

The boy's face darkened with hatred as his fists clenched at his sides. "Yes, one of those cow things and its pet killed paw. There was another, a dead one, but the pet tore paw up right in front of us!" Another tear, this one of rage and frustration, squeezed its way out of the corner of the boy's eye.

Putting his hands on his hips, the 'knight' tilted his head with a "Hmmm." Feigning thought, the demon paced for a moment, pretending to consider something, then stopped in front of the family once again.

"It is as I feared," he began with a nod. "The Horde is gathering information as well; our strengths and weaknesses, the movement and placement of troops, and even where our supplies come from." He motioned to the garden of watermelons at his last comment to lend credence to the lie he was concocting. "My sources tell me they have been slowly building an army in their base at Hammerfall in the Arathi Highlands." He began to speak as if to himself. "It must be the beginning of an invasion. From there they could travel south to Menethil Harbor, Ironforge, even Stormwind!" He affected a tone of desperation as he continued. "I must warn King Lane. Time may be shorter than I feared, and I am the only one close enough I…" Speaking a word of power in his mind, he caused himself to burst into the illusion of flame. The already beleaguered family jumped back in surprise and horror as he faked screams of agony and fell to the ground.

"Warn… King, boy!" he cried out in mock pain before he spoke out loud another word of guttural magic that was lost in the crackle of flames. The conflagration roared to a peak, knocking the group flat, and before they could recover, the frightening display of destructive magic ended with a muted explosion that left nothing but a charred piece of ground where the 'knight' once lay.

Gathering the women up and rushing them to the house, the boy took charge as the new man of the family and told them to stay there. Donning a pair of simple leather shoes, the young lad lit out for Stormwind at a run with some very important news for his King.

* * *

_**Y**__ou created me_. The awestruck statement made by my Troll host was the first thing I heard upon awakening and it took me a moment to grasp its meaning.

_Sort of, but not really. Gimme just a moment to wake up Shmee, then we can talk about this._

_Aye, mon._ I couldn't tell from the response how my symbiotic friend felt about the new realization yet, but I knew things would be much easier to explain. I opened my eyes, pulling myself upright and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed with a grunt. It was only a moment before a knock brought my attention to the doorway where Velen stood with a friendly smile creasing his ancient features.

"I trust things went well?" his deep voice queried.

"I be hopin' so," I started, but the immediate look of confusion on Velen's face told me I had slipped back into Troll. I grimaced slightly and focused before starting again.

"I hope so," I said slowly, and the Draenei's face brightened in relief. "How long was I asleep?" I asked, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my large, three-fingered hands.

"The moon has set, and daybreak is not too far off. Ravenbear returned only recently and is anxious to hear of your progress," he informed me with a nod.

_Anotha' one of dem dat was created by da one called Shelly_. The statement was neutral but still had a ring of wonderment to it.

_I promise, my friend, we will discuss this at length, and I assure you it's not as amazing as you think_. I left it at that and returned to the other conversation.

"Where is Raven now, and was she able to get what I asked?" I was still a bit groggy, so I continued to speak slowly.

"She has gone to get some food and drink for when you awake, and if you are referring to the Orb of Deception, then yes, she has." His eyebrow went up in question. "Although the need for this relic, I do not understand. You have no need to hide yourself here."

"It's not for me," I said with a slight grin. "There are two possibilities for its use. Eventually I will have to return to Orgrimmar and report what I have learned and experienced here. Having someone return with me that can confirm it will be very useful in validating my story. Since the portals are unreliable, and bringing a member of the Alliance into the main Horde city would be somewhat problematic…" At this, Velen chuckled lightly, but then frowned.

"The magic of the Orb is only temporary and short-lived. How will Ravenbear – and I assume she is the member of whom you speak – reach Orgrimmar with you?"

"There are many routes from here to Orgrimmar, many of which are contested territories and not unusual places to see members of both factions. When she reaches Horde territory, a simple deep-hooded cloak can pass most scrutiny, especially if she is using a flying mount that both factions use."

I paused, remembering a limitation from the game, and Shmee answered the question for me.

_ Aye Marc, Flyin can be done in Azeroth. Dey be havin patrols but I be knowin how an when de be aroun. I can be tellin her where not to be. _

_Thanks._

"Once she reaches the Orgrimmar flight tower, she can activate the Orb, and I will meet her there and get her to safety before it runs out." I finished with a palm upraised as if to say - easy!

Velen stroked his beard in thought, his eyes glowing. After a few moments, he nodded in agreement. "A sound plan, Marc. You would have made a formidable tactician," he complimented with raised eyebrows, and I just shrugged in embarrassment.

"It's all common sense and thinking logically. I still can't account for all the possibilities and surprises that could occur along the way. I just have to hope for the best and work with what I know."

_Aye, mon, an' you be knowin' more dan all of us 'bout dis world._

_And you know what I know_, I countered and paused, realizing something else had occurred during our exchange of information. _Hey... Shmee_? My question was hesitant.

_Ya, mon_? His response was such that I knew that he didn't realize what I was about to tell him, and I wasn't sure how he would react and he could sense my worry. _What be wrong, Marc_? he asked levelly.

_I… this thing we did… I think it went both ways_.

_What you be sayin'_. He sounded fearful, but before I could respond, Velen spoke up again .

"You mentioned two possibilities for the use of the Orb; if Ravenbear is the first, what is the second?" He was genuinely curious after hearing my first plan.

_Sorry, Shmee,_ I admonished. _Let me finish with Velen, and then I'll get back to this. Both are equally important, but I can't talk as fast with Velen_. He acknowledged with a small grunt, and I could hear the apprehensiveness in that small vocalization. Sighing inwardly while I cleared my throat, I stood to stretch my legs and get rid of the last vestiges of grogginess coursing through my veins.

"The other possibility is the one I'm less sure of, but have more hope for," I began somewhat cryptically. "I'm sure Raven also informed you that I asked for a priest?" Velen nodded again as he moved to a chair and sat. "Well, the reason behind that is twofold. The first is the priest's ability to control minds." Showing the millennia of intelligence, the ancient leader nodded as he started to see where I was going with this train of thought. "I've already found that although most things here are pretty much as I expect them to be, some things are just a little different. What I'm hoping is that that ability will be able to also be used to transfer the thoughts within that mind. . ."

". . . allowing one or both Ravenbear and myself to see all that Shmeegun has seen in your mind," Velen finished with a sagely nod.

"Exactly; that way we can all be on the same page, as they say where I am from." I paused while the primordial Draenei digested that thought. It didn't take long.

"This can be achieved, although it cannot be forced, and all parties must be willing," I nodded in understanding. "And the second reason?"

"This reason will make more sense to you once our little mind trick works, but if I am lucky, then our lovely young mage knows a very specific Priest, one of the Night Elf race that I may know all too well," I finished with a quiet sigh of longing.

_Vyerna_.

With storybook precision, Ravenbear entered the room with a tray of bread and cheese, a pitcher of water, and the question "Night Elf?" innocently rolling off her blue lips.

* * *

_**J**_ake had never woken up so utterly disoriented and confused. He was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions and disjointed thoughts. Tears coursed down the ruin that was Gasalyn's face, and he felt like crying out in helpless frustration one minute, while being utterly depressed and wanting to give up all hope the next. A manic bark of laughter burst past his lips with an audible "HAH" and caused him to sit bolt upright. Bewildered and frightened, he didn't recognize his surroundings until another sound from the adjacent room brought his attention to the doorway, and a wide eyed Masharret was standing there, grasping the doorframe for support, and it all came flooding back in a rush. Determined to not completely lose his mind, Jake took a deep breath and tried to calm himself while speaking to his counterpart, not yet trusting his vocal chords.

_Gasalyn, what's going on_? He tried to sound as calm as possible, figuring this was affecting both of them.

_I know. . . I've seen_! She sounded frantic and barely under control, and the look on Masharret's face told Jake that Shelly was going through a similar experience.

_Gasalyn,_ he tried to sound soothing and only partially succeeded, being just a hair more in control at the moment. _Please, Princess_, he used the formal title, hoping it would appeal more to the training a daughter of the House of Stratholme. (_How did I know that_?!) He shook off the question for a moment and continued. _Try to get a hold of yourself so we don't end up in the Org loony bin_! That last elicited another manic giggle from inside his head, but the rampage of emotions seemed to recede, and Jake felt a little less inclined to twist his own head off. A tense moment passed before a much calmer Gasalyn spoke.

_My… apologies, Jake, but it seems while you slept we… exchanged thoughts. I know where you came from and why you know what you know. It was… too much; it is all I can do right now to keep from going – loony – as you put it_. She finished with another small giggle, and Jake empathized completely as the magnitude of what she was saying hit him. As he searched his thoughts, he realized that he had gained a whole new set of memories that belonged to Gasalyn. A couple flashed before him that showed him of the Princess being a live human as a daughter of the Stratholme family that had existed before the Plague released by the Demon in the third war. He saw the death and destruction of her entire family and felt the pain of her own transformation into one of the undead – the unbearable grief and loneliness as she wandered aimlessly for weeks and finally found a place among the Forsaken.

As heart-wrenching and dismal as these memories were, Jake knew that his memories, no matter how innocuous, would be even more devastating to Gasalyn. He at least had a frame of reference, fantasy stories, and the game of World of Warcraft to help soften the blow of this influx of alien, yet recognizable memory. Gasalyn had no such filter. Everything that was in Jakes mind, especially those memories of the game, would be apocalyptically upsetting to someone from the Warcraft world. He realized then that his host's stamina was much more formidable than he could imagine with how well she was keeping herself as calm as she was.

Looking up, he saw that Shelly was having similar success, and with a nod she confirmed it. He motioned for Shelly to have a seat in the chair by the door and rose to find something to drink. As he gathered the cups and pitcher of water, he attempted to also gather his thoughts. After pouring the water, he handed one to a grateful Shelly and returned to the bed to sit before taking a long pull of liquid himself.

_Your world is . . . confusing, Jake. From what I have been able to understand, you claim to cherish life, yet your people kill each other with abandon. You turn on each other for any number of reasons, the most of which seem to be the possession of a form of paper gold! The people who, like yourself, truly believe in helping others with honor are very few and thought of as weak! Your race seems demon possessed; how have you survived?!_ The disbelief and horror wound into the question like a braid of mercury and blood.

A humorless smile touched Gasalyn's decayed lips as Jake thought, once again, of the glaring ironies within the race that he called his own. A glint of light caught his eye, and he saw a tear tracing its way down Shelly's face.

"Masharret learning about us, too, huh," he stated flatly, and she nodded with a sniff. Jake cleared his throat and took another sip of water, then continued. "Alright, I'm going to speak out loud so I can talk to both you and Masharret, ok Gasalyn?"

_Yes._

"Shelly, you jump in if I get off track or start rambling too much." Another nod with a raised eyebrow in question, and Jake held up a hand for her to wait. Taking a deep breath, he ran through a number of ways to begin and then settled with simple.

"Yes, we are a very self-destructive race, and to answer your question, Gas, I'm not really sure how we've survived this long; lot's of practice I guess." That got a small grin out of Shelly. "I'm pretty sure if things don't change soon, and I mean drastically change, were doomed to extinction from our own selfish interests. The people that have the power to change things have no desire to because they are in power; and the ones who **want **to change things fight an uphill battle against them. Even those with the most noble of intentions eventually give way to the almost insurmountable pressures that the elite of society can bring . The rest of us who haven't succumbed to apathy and become callous and uncaring just try to help where we can, little things like helping people in small ways, caring about them and surrounding ourselves with others who feel the same." He huffed out a sigh as Shelly spoke up.

"It's still a balancing act, though. Even those of us who want to help remain guarded; willing, but wary of being screwed." She grinned and just as Jake began to wonder why Gasalyn filled in the blank.

_Ah, for once your thoughts help me. . . being screwed, it means tricked . . . your language fits your world; confusing and vast._ The work of figuring things out seemed to be helping the princess regain control of herself and her turbulent emotions. Then a thought occurred to Jake.

"Is it so different here though? Your history is full of war as well, and even though different races band together to help one another, there is still fighting amongst them. Perhaps the reason that the worst among my race are the way they are is because our demons are internal, whereas your demons are the real thing." A bell gonged in the distance, barely registering to Jake that a Zeppelin had arrived. "In a sense, you may be lucky, because as far as I can tell, no race here revels in whole sale slaughter and destructions except the demons. If and when you have to kill another living being, it is with at least **some** regret at the act. At least here if you see a demon you **know **it's evil; in my world, even the 'demons' look the same as everyone else." There was a pause as that thought settled, but then Jake saw the look of concentration he had come to know as internal dialog on Shelly's face. It lasted only a moment before she looked up at him, and her undead features pulled themselves into a look of consternation.

"Masharret wants to know about the game. . ." she paused again, listening. "She asks how it can be that this world was created from," she smiled sheepishly, "a colored box."

The thought of a computer immediately caused Jake to think of his own beloved machine and how many countless hours he had spent in front of it. Lost in his own little world, he would spend hours creating wire frame models and turn them into animations with different programs. Playing his own little version of God with just a keyboard, a mouse, and his imagination his creative options were almost limitless.

Imagination. . . the stuff of dreams, and the beginning of all invention; the thought put a look on his face that was strange enough to cause an exasperated "What?!" from Shelly.

"You know how everyone says that anything is possible?" he asked her with a grin.

"Yeah, but wha-" she began before Jake cut her off.

"Especially when it comes to imagination. . ." She just nodded, seeing he was on a roll, and let him talk. "See, in my world, some people believe that anything that you can think of has the possibility of existing somewhere in the universe. So it's possible that the game was created **because **you existed. Maybe, just maybe, whoever thought of it caught a random flash from this world. A thought, a hint, a feeling, even, that you existed could have led to the inspiration for the creation of the game!" The excitement in his voice gave the normally gravelly tone a raspy lightness.

_But, Jake, the world of your 'game' and this one are so similar. How could someone have only an idea and create our world with such detail as to be almost a mirror image?_

He paused as the thought sobered him, and at Shelly's insistence, repeated Gasalyn's question out loud to her.

"She has a point," Shelly stated noncommittally, and Jake nodded his assent.

"You're right. Unless they had been here or something gave them direct access. . ."

He broke off as a heavy knock sounded at the door followed by the throaty voice of an Orc. "Princess, you are needed at the Zeppelin tower immediately."

A look of bewilderment crossed Shelly's face as she mouthed the words flight tower silently. Jake shrugged, just as lost as she, and at Gasalyn's, request allowed his alter ego to surface to speak for him. "Please, soldier, is this something Morticide could handle? It has been a trying night, and I have slept little." The exhaustion in her voice didn't need to be faked.

Sounding truly regretful the guard replied. "Apologies, Princess, Leani has returned with Nutharen and Radamantis. She has requested your presence and says it is urgent." At the mention of their friends' names, both leapt to their feet with a gasp. Gasalyn quickly smoothed her robe and composed herself before opening the door. The guard towered over the opening, green skin and muscles bulging through armor plates that creaked and strained over his form. He stepped back respectfully as they exited the dwelling and spoke once more.

"There is another matter you should be made aware of as well, Highness." The gravity in his voice made both of them pause. "The Hunter and Rogue had to be restrained at the dock. Leani spoke of some curse of the mind, but they were both screaming and convulsing on the deck when the Zeppelin arrived."

* * *

"_**S**_o you're saying that I could conceivably smuggle both of you into Orgrimmar?" I asked with more than a little hope. Ravenbear nodded, turning back to the stone table where she had laid out a small meal of bread, fruit, and cheese.

"Once you get one of us to safety, you can bring the Orb to the other hiding in the cliffs nearby and both return." She paused to tear off a piece of bread and stuff it with some cheese before she continued to munch and talk. "With your friends' knowledge of the patrols, it should be a simple matter of timing and observation." She completed the thought with a swallow of water that I mirrored to wash my own mouthful down. I kept to small bites even though I was ravenous; the possibility of being reunited with someone from my world, let alone my wife, had me so nervous that I was afraid I might choke! After telling Ravenbear of my plan and of my hopes about the young Night Elf Priestess, she was convinced Tanya and Vyerna were one and the same. She explained the visions that had been troubling her and the plan to seek out Malfurion for advice. She sent a messenger on the swiftest mount, saying only that it was imperative that Vyerna come to the Exodar. While we waited, she had come up with the idea that both of them should accompany me to Orgrimmar. She believed she should go for credibility and Vyerna for obvious reasons. It hadn't been too long before she received word that Vyerna was on her way. Seeing my obvious excitement, the Draenei mage smiled in amusement as much as in wonder.

"I never thought I would find the smile of a troll anything less than frightening. I will never look at any of the Horde the same after this." She shook her head with a sigh. "I will go see if Vyerna has arrived. Keep in mind, Marc, your beloved may be part of her but there is another part that has grown up fearing those of the Horde. Show her the patience and respect you have shown me and all will be well." With that, she turned and left. Velen had duties that had to be attended to and had left when the message had been sent. Alone at last, I had some time to attend to unfinished business.

_Thank you for your patience, Shmeegun. I know it's been difficult._

_Ja, mon. _I could hear the strain in his voice. _Now wat you be sayin' bout thoughts goin' both ways?_

_Well_, I paused and took a breath, still reluctant, _you know everything about me now, right? I mean, there's probably some things you don't quite understand, but you still have the knowledge?_

_You bein' right bout dat, I an' I not understandin' lots, but it be der in my head all jumbled an_… He paused as he put it together. _You be havin' me in your own head too?_

_Yeah._

_Everyting?_

I simply nodded and waited for that blow to settle before I continued.

_Like you, it's all here but still jumbled; there was only one thing that stuck out clearly like it was my own memory._

_Rya and Taygin._ His voice was flat with emotional control even though I could feel the turmoil raging beneath the surface.

_Your daughter and her mother_, I paused at a loss for words then said simply, _I have never been good at dealing with loss, my friend, but I can tell you this – they were both beautiful, and you do their memory justice every day you live._ The image of the two most important females in his life had ricocheted like a bullet to the forefront of my mind only minutes after I had awoken earlier. His mate Taygin had almost human features with a small nose, short receded tusks, and high cheekbones and forehead. Her almond-shaped eyes held a soft, reddish glow that was common among the females of the Troll race. Hair the color of a harvest moon was pulled back and braided, falling down her back to her waist between slim shoulder blades. Dressed in the typical garments of her race with leather boots, shorts, and a furred brassiere, she showed off much of her teal-colored skin and a figure that spoke of long hours of hard work. She looked young, but age was difficult to determine, and Marc guessed her to be in her mid-twenties as far as human years go. The daughter, Rya, was the perfect combination of her parents, and no less beautiful as children are wont to be. Guessing her to be no more than five or six, she had her father's eyes with their blue irises and less slanted shape. Her skin was a shade between the cerulean blue of Shmee and the teal of Taygin. The coloration of her face leaned more toward that of her mother, while her hands and feet were a deeper blue that so perfectly represented the bond her parents shared. Tusks protruded a bit more than her mother's, but when she smiled, even Marc was overwhelmed by her innocent happiness.

Suppressing the memory with something akin to shame at the intimacy I felt from my new friend's past, I felt compelled to speak again as a shared tear ran down our face.

_I know this is painful, my friend, but now that they are my memories as well, I need to know how… why? I've looked for the reason, but everything is still too jumbled, and I'm sure I would have buried anything but the good memories myself. If you need time, I understand and can wait. I've lost loved ones, but never anyone as close as you were to Rya and Taygin._ I stopped, knowing that anything else I said would just be me babbling from newfound grief and painful to the memory's owner. As I waited for Shmee to get himself under control again, I tried to sort through more innocuous memories and found myself reliving happy moments with the Druid Cor. There were the early missions out in Stranglethorn Vale; the vast jungle-like forest in the south part of the Eastern Kingdoms where the two of them became friends; the battles that were won and lost complete with the breathtaking escapes; the Satyr's of Felwood and their first exposure to the clan of bear men known as the Timbermaw.

The sound of a hoof tapping stone broke my reverie, and Shmee's decision to wait was made for him. Ravenbear stood in the doorway with a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. My breath quickened along with my pulse and the female Draenei gave me a stern look. "Remember what I said and stay focused, or she won't be able to understand you anyway." A knowing smile crossed her features as she stepped further into the room and beckoned to the doorway. Even with all I had seen thus far, I was still stunned at the alien beauty of the Elvin races in this reality. Blackfire's features had been almost pixy-like with a devilish glint and her fair skin had given her an air of royalty. Vyerna was something completely different, although still having the same physical traits inherent in her race, the tribal markings on her face and blue-grey tint of her skin gave her an earthier look. Small in stature, and her figure hidden beneath the accoutrements of her priesthood, she still moved with the grace and poise of a bird in flight. Her eyes had remained on her feet as she entered the room, and when she came to a stop mere feet away from me, she took a deep breath and slowly looked up at me. Even sitting on the bed I was a half head taller, and I could see her set her jaw determinedly and swallow as her golden eyes came to a rest on mine. I could see the fear in them but there was also a firm determination, and I could see why Ravenbear had chosen her as her friend.

Her eyes shifted for a moment, then she nodded, closing her eyes and taking another breath. I gasped aloud as I saw the subtle shifting under her skin and the slight shudder that ran through her. There was also a change in the way she stood; less stiff and cordial, the shoulders slouched just a little. When she opened her eyes again, there was much less fear and more wonderment. The young priestess looked around in awe for a few moments, then came back to the huge blue troll sitting before her. As she looked me over for a few more moments, I had to force myself to relax as I felt Shmee tense up as well.

_Nevah been dis close to a Night Elf before, mon, not witout dem tryin ta kill me!_

_First time for everything_, I said back reflexively as the Priestess stepped back and crossed her arms in a very human-like gesture. Then with an impish grin, she spoke.

"Those tusks are a hell of a lot bigger in person."

"You ought to try carrying them!" A big grin split around the aforementioned dental protrusions, and it was all I could do to not jump up and grab her in a swinging hug. Being the practical woman I knew so well her face sobered quickly.

"We'll have more time later to catch up. Raven here gave me the quick and dirty version of what the plan is and said something about needing Vyerna's abilities?"

"Yeah, gonna need you to let her take control again so I can share some Information with Ravenbear here." I indicated the mage with a small toss of my head.

"Share…" She looked dubious then a little frightened.

"Wait, have you or Vyerna fallen aslee-"

"Yes." She averted her eyes quickly, but the single word held enough emotion that I didn't have to ask anything else. I took her hand gently and covered it with the other as I spoke softly.

"Tanya, I can understand your fear if you had no warning; Shmee and I agreed to do it after I figured it would be the easiest way to explain things, and even then it was overwhelming. I can't begin to imagine what it would have been like with no warning, but Velen told me that the ability could not be used like we're planning to unless the participants are willing. Ask Vyerna if you can stay out of it while the information is passed." She took a deep breath and turned back to look at my strange but familiar eyes, a resolute look on her face.

"No," she paused, and the look became a thoughtful one, "perhaps I can help filter some things and lessen the shock."

"That's my girl," I grinned with a wink, "always thinking." She smiled in return then looked at the other female in the room. "You ready for this?"

"I doubt it," she said, stepping forward while swallowing hard. "But I've already befriended a troll that is not a troll and can speak my language, sheltered him within an Alliance stronghold, and found out my best friend is two people. If this needs to be done to help get things back to normal, who am I to complain?"

"I don't think any of us will be normal after this ever again," Tanya said seriously, "but yeah, if we gotta, let's do this." She closed her eyes once again, and the changes settled quickly across her face. When they opened again, the trepidation in them told me Vyerna was once more in control. Looking at me with a newfound ease, she spoke in her harmonious voice.

"Your Tan-Ya is very brave. I hope that all of this ends soon so that you may be reunited once again." I nodded at the compliment, very much sharing her hope. She raised her hands, offering one to me and Ravenbear each. Joining hands with the Draenei, I watched the young Night Elf as she closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply.

_Will she be readin' de thoughts in my hed too?_ Shmeegun's voice was filled with trepidation. Understanding his unease being that it was akin to my own, I spoke aloud instead of answering him.

"One more question before we begin, Vyerna." I kept my voice low so as not to startle anyone.

"Yes?" She kept her eyes closed, but tilted her head slightly.

"Shmeegun was asking if you will be able to hear his thoughts as well."

"No," she answered without hesitation, "the languages of the Horde do not make sense to us. With the normal use of this spell we are able to control actions, but no one has ever been able to understand their thoughts. Be aware, though, that I will be entering Shmeegun's mind to reach your thoughts. He will still have to be willing to let me pass." I relayed the information back to him.

_I can be doin dat_, he answered, sounding much relieved.

"Then we are both ready," I said and resumed an attempt at calm.

"Everyone, try to relax," her voice was suffused with calm as she focused. "I have done this only a few times, but if everyone is calm, it is much easier."

With that, she spoke a few arcane words and a small ring of blue flame appeared above her head. It danced with flares and rotated slowly as she sank deeper into focus. Another whispered word and part of the flame lanced out over our heads. I saw a similar ring form over Ravenbear that was then connected to the one over Vyerna. Following the connecting flame back, I saw that the flame ring over the Night Elf's head was oscillating, like two rings crossing over in the same space. Assuming one for each of the personalities, I was sure I had a similar one over my head.

"Now, I need you to close your eyes and let go. I cannot pull the thoughts from you, you must give them freely. When the flow begins, Tan-Ya, you may attempt to hold some of it if you wish. I do not know if you are capable of handling magic, so if you feel any discomfort, please let go immediately. If it overwhelms you, it will do the same to me, and I will have to rest before attempting this again." She paused for the response, then continued. "Ravenbear, this will not be as uncomfortable for you as it was for us. It will take only a few moments, and if Tan-Ya can hold some of it, then it will be even less so. Regardless, it will still be… a lot. Now, let us begin."

She gave us a few more moments to prepare, then spoke a single syllable, and I felt her flow into my mind. I sensed Shmee tense up as years of training tried to get him to react to the intrusion. He fought his reaction, and with monumental effort let the spell dip past him into me. Somehow in that moment, Shmee's conscious opened to be as understanding as my own. I felt his apprehension at the new sensation of being connected with the other minds, but that feeling was pushed aside as I concentrated on keeping my own mind open. With my previous experience of sharing memories, I wasn't as anxious as I thought I would be, but it was still like having the tendrils of a jellyfish squirming, even if gently, under my skin. It was only moments before I heard Vyerna gasp, and Raven repeated the sound with an added grunt of effort. This continued for a few minutes before I felt the tendrils begin to recede then leave all together. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding and slowly opened my eyes to see Verna do the same seconds later. It took a few more anxious minutes before the glowing blue eyes of the Draenei snapped open while her head rocked back on her shoulders. Vyerna reached out to steady her, and the mage grabbed her arm for support as a half sob escaped her lips. Her eyes seemed to be staring widely at nothing while she took another shuddering breath and finally blinked.

"By the gods..." she whispered in awe.

"Yeah," I stated flatly as I released their hands and rubbed my forehead, still feeling ghost vines in my skull. Pulling my hand, back I looked at the stricken mage with empathy.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but if your reaction is any indication, we have to find the others and make sure they're all right. You'll have some time to adjust while you're flying to Orgrimmar." I patted her knee gently.

The familiar tone of the Ancient Draenei drifted from the other room as he entered. "And get there you must," his bearded face loomed through the archway, "for I have news that affects us all." A deep concern etched new lines in his face.

Ravenbear stood too quickly and swayed on her cloven feet and Velen helped to steady her. "What news, prophet?"

"I received word that the Alliance is moving large numbers of troops and war machines to their post at Refuge Point in the Arathi Highlands." He spoke the news in somber tones shaded by a hint of disbelief, and before anyone could ask why, he continued. "One of our people inside Stormwind has heard that they believe the Horde is doing the same at Hammerfall."

All eyes fell on me, and before I could ask, Shmee spoke up.

_ I an' I bein' der a few days ago. Der be no armies in Hammerfall_. His statement rang of assured fact.

"He says there is nothing there, no troops unless they moved them in the last few days, and I'm pretty sure he'd know about that... wouldn't you?"

_ I would. _

I nodded, and Velen stroked his beard for a moment.

"Regardless, if the Horde doesn't know, they will find out soon enough and begin movements themselves." He looked at each of us in turn as he continued. "You must get to Orgrimmar and talk to Thrall before he moves troops as well. If it helps at all, I knew his father Durotan; he was honorable, and I believe Thrall to be the same. Tell him the news comes from me directly if you have to, but tell him someone has provoked this without my knowledge. I will do what I can from here to stall them. Now hurry, there are three mounts waiting at the flight masters for you. Good luck to you all." With that he was gone in a flourish of twirling robes and the clunk of hooves on stone.

Ravenbear caught my eye as I stood to tower over both of them and held up a hand for us to wait. Reaching into a nearby chest, she pulled out my dagger and handed it back to me. "You will need this." A pang of regret crossed her face as she released it into my hands. I barely felt the surge of power for the reason of me having one thing repeating itself in my mind. Vyerna placed and hand on my arm to get my attention, and my thought spoke aloud.

"He wants me to talk to Thrall?!" I asked incredulously, and the Priestess smiled in understanding as she asked.

"Tan-Ya would like to know why things are always difficult with you."

* * *

_**W**_hen they reached the Zeppelin tower, they witnessed a small parade of the city guard limping or being carried away with bloody gashes adorning more than one, others in need of more serious healing. At the end of the impromptu spectacle, two Orcs carried a trussed and muzzled raptor that was still struggling, albeit weakly, against its bonds. Leaving their escort behind to help with the injured, they both raced up the ramp and were greeted with what looked like the aftermath of a small battle. On one of the outcroppings, they recognized the diminutive form of Radamantis, who was held stock still by the magic of a stern-looking Troll Priest. Recognizing the glowing chains strung between four jagged black pillars that surrounded the Rogue with its pulsing radiance holding him in place, Jake mentally identified the Shackle spell. Its use limited to those of the undead, it was normally for holding the more unruly Scourge and their ilk at bay.

The Taurens were a different story altogether. Six more guards were finishing the bonds on an unconscious Nutharen. None of them looked much better than those who had taken down the raptor, and they still remained wary as they backed away from the insensate giant. Standing amongst them all, green sword drawn and a look of confusion contorting her face, was Leani. Knowing the possibility that this could be Tanya but cautious of the battle-ready stance, Jake took his usual straight forward approach.

_She looks a bit upset. Why don't you talk to her_. His ability to understate the situation with sarcasm was not lost on Gasalyn.

_Yes, I think that would be for the best_, she retorted, deadpanned. Moving forward in mind as well as body, she smoothed her robes which affected her accustomed regal air. She walked a curved path to approach the warrior from the front and not startle her. As their eyes met, Leani immediately sheathed her weapon and composed herself with a slight nod.

"Princess, my apologies for the situation. It was unexpected to say the least." Her look of confusion was immediately replaced by controlled frustration and respect.

"Unexpected, yes..." She looked at the prone form of Nutharen with undisguised concern, and Jake was suddenly inundated with memories. Still photos of the Tauren swearing fealty to Gasalyn flashed by. A torrent of images shuttered across his vision showing, scenes of a bloody and beaten Nutharen being defended by the Princess. Battles being fought both with weapon and tongue, showing his loyalty to that pledge, unfolded in panoramic view to the young human, complete with emotional content. Having only been alive for a few decades, Jake had known only a few good friends, and of those, few none readily stood out as willing to sacrifice themselves for him. Something about that thought left him feeling a deep sadness, but at the same time a fierce determination to make himself worthy enough to have that kind of a friendship.

Lost in the memories, he had missed some of the conversation, and Jake realized that Leani had turned to go.

_Sorry, got lost in that flashback of yours. What's going on_?

_I have asked Leani to give us a moment with Nutharen and Radamantis as they are of House Exiled and I would take responsibility for them._

_Do you..._ Jake started, but Gasalyn cut him off.

_One moment, Jake, let Leani leave, then we can all confer on what has happened._ With that, she turned to the priest.

"The Shackle will hold him long enough for us to calm him," she spoke to the Troll with an assured air, "and you may leave with my thanks." Looking slightly dubious, the Priest nodded his understanding and withdrew down the ramp after Leani. Once they were gone, Gasalyn spoke out loud to both Jake and Shelly. "You both must work quickly; the spell will hold him for only a short time. Speak to your friend Joe as you did me, Jake. Help him get control of himself and calm Radamantis. If this is not accomplished before the spell wears off, it is likely we will be fighting one of the deadliest beings I know." Her voice brooked no argument on that point.

"What about Nutharen, he is no less fierce!" Jake could tell it was Masharret asking by the subtle tone difference.

"He will be unconscious longer than the spell holding. Radamantis and I will handle Nutharen. Now please, both of you hurry!"

Shifting forward, Jake took a moment to compose his thoughts and turned to look at the undead warlock that held his friend. It struck him at that moment that his earlier aspiration had come to pass. Before him were friends that were willing to stand in harm's way for him, and he knew the reverse to be true as well. Jutting a chin toward the shimmering chains, he and Shelly began forward.

"Ready?" he asked in the gravelly female voice that had become so familiar.

"Yeah," she smiled slightly. "And let me talk first; you know, female and all."

_Males. You're so predictable_. Jake could hear the smile in Gasalyn's voice as it mirrored his own knowing grin – a grin that faded quickly in the next moment.

The rictus of fury frozen on the rogue's face spoke volumes to the pain he intended to inflict on anyone foolish enough to be in his way when he became free. Although locked in a position of attack and unable to move, the black coals that served as eyes snapped back and forth over the two beings that approached. Both hands clenched tightly around each of his lethal blades, Jake imagined he could hear the creak of muscles straining to break free and bring the weapons to bear with deadly purpose. Knowing the clock was ticking and being a little unnerved by the intense stare Radamantis was giving her, Shelly got straight to the point.

"Joe, it's Shelly. I know you're in there and that you can hear me. I know you're scared and probably freaking out right now, but I need you to get a hold of yourself and calm both you and Rad down." A hint of confusion wormed its way into the gaze, softening the look of rage a tiny bit. Taking the small change as a positive sign, Jake spoke up.

"Hey, Rad, er – Joe, it's me Jake. I know it's crazy in there right now, we just went through it ourselves, but if you can get the real Rad to relax and not kill us all, that would be a big hel- **OW**!" Jake rubbed his shoulder where Shelly had just swatted him and was now giving him a wide-eyed 'What the hell?!' look. He gave an embarrassed shrug, and she turned back to the rogue.

"Please, Joe..." she paused, reconsidering her words, and thought of a different tact. With only seconds left to the spell, she braced herself and forged ahead.

"Radamantis, you know these people in front of you. They are your friends, and you would never forgive yourself if you hurt them. Please hear me, I promise we can explain what has happened and help you understand. For the sake of all of us, believe we mean you no harm."

As the last word passed her lips, the glimmering chains shattered into mist, and the blades continued the momentum that had been stopped so suddenly by the spell; his right hand arcing downward toward Shelly and the other in a wide horizontal sweep meant to disembowel Jake's host. Reflexes that had nothing to do with either bodies' inhabitants and everything to do with years of training caused them both to dodge the blows, but not fast enough to avoid a razor thin slash in the material of their robes. Before either of them had finished dodging, Radamantis was already crouched and ready to attack once again, a look of blank concentration on his face. No one moved, and Jake, aghast at the blinding speed with which the rogue had moved, was unable to even speak inside Gasalyn's thoughts. Shelly watched the black eyes move slowly back and forth between her and Jake with horrid fascination. Then, very slowly, Radamantis stood, his blades still up and his eyes wary. More seconds dragged by, and the tension was becoming unbearable, when a sudden tremor ran through his body; his shoulders drooped and his head fell forward as he dropped his arms and let the blades fall to stick into the wooden planks that made up the tower. Looking back up at the warlock and mage before him, they saw a look of anguished relief on the undead features.

"Man, am I glad to see you guys," he croaked out, his voice broken with emotion. With a sob of laughter, Shelly rushed forward and embraced the little rogue, ignoring the shocked gasp within her head. Looking over her shoulder as he returned the hug, Joe saw Gasalyn smile briefly before she turned to the moaning Tauren trussed up on the deck behind her. Glad to be reunited with his friends and that his host was willing to trust them, Joe gave Shelly another pat on the back and gently pushed her back with a kindly smile on his face.

"Common, Shel, we still got one more friend here that needs us." His gentle but serious tone brought her back to the situation at hand, and they both joined Gasalyn as she crouched in front of the slowly waking giant. She shuddered faintly, and when she spoke, Joe knew Jake had relinquished control once more.

"Nutharen, it is I, Princess Gasalyn. Hear me and remember the oath you swore." The Tauren snapped his eyes open with an ear-splitting roar that caused both Shelly and Joe to grab their heads, squeezing their eyes shut and gracelessly fall back from their crouch to a stunned sitting position. Forcing an eye open, Joe watched as Gasalyn grabbed one of the huge black horns in each gnarled hand as the huge beast struggled against its bonds, and she pulled her face close to his with a scream of her own.

"**Nutharen, House of Exiled**, you **will **hear me, and you **will **remember your oath and calm yourself!" The effect was instantaneous as the Tauren's struggles ceased, but he continued to tremble, and his nostrils flared with each fierce exhalation. Hearing footsteps pounding up the ramp, the guards being drawn back up by the Taurens bellow, Gasalyn knew time was of the essence. The wild look in his eyes told her he was still only barely in control, but she knew Nutharen well and that he was fighting to maintain that control with every ounce of his will. She lowered her voice and, releasing the horns, placed a hand on either side of his furred head.

"You have fought many battles at my side and in my defense, dearest Nutharen, and this one is no less dire and important. You must trust me as you have so many times in the past. All will be made clear, and you will be safe, but you **must** calm yourself, and you must do it now." Hearing the guards reach the top the ramp behind her and knowing she was out of time, she drew the small dagger from her waist and began to cut her friend's bonds.

* * *

**A** huge grin of elation curved around the mammoth tusks growing from my face as the wind flowed through the Mohawk of green-blue hair and flattened my long pointed ears against my head. Guiding the Nether Ray (a shorter, fatter version of the giant manta rays of my own reality) through another dip and rise maneuver, I could almost forget the urgency of my flight. With its stubby wings and thick tail ending in feathery extensions, there was no way the stocky creature should be able to fly, but with it trailing an iridescent smoky trail behind it, it was a testament to the magic inherent to this realm. Its dark purple back fading in gradient pattern to its white belly also spoke of the alien beauty found everywhere I looked. Passing over the Stone Talon Mountains, I was able to see the tiny forms of the Mirkfallon Dryads moving between the lush green trees near the lake of the same name. Their centaur-like forms flitted to and fro, giving them a playful appearance that belied their ferocious tendencies toward any outsiders.

_Dis not bein' quite like dem arrow planes you be flyin' in your world_. Shmeegun's voice brought me back from my reverie with a chuckle, one that I echoed out loud and let grow into full joyful laughter. Gripping the reigns tighter, I closed my eyes and threw my head back with a shout.

_It's amazing Shmee… Now I know why Tanya loves skydiving so much! The feeling of complete freedom is beyond description__!_ The mention of my significant other produced a pang of melancholy that I felt resonate briefly between us and brought me quickly down from my lofty high. _Sorry Shmee, didn't mean to bring up any bad memories._

_Der bein no bad memories of Taygin, Marc. I an' I bein proud of de time we spent togetha'. It bein' de thought of her not bein' here dat be makin' me feel de sadness._

_That's what_... I began, but Shmee over road me with a firm determined voice.

_Dat __**not **__bein a bad ting Marc, dat just bein' de natural ting. It be showin dat she left her mark wit' me. It bein' better dan de anger I be feelin' for so long after she been killed, dats for sure__._ I could almost feel him tense up at the thought of the old hurt and at the mention of her death. The revelation of that moment also brought back a flood of memories that I tried to stop in vain.

They started deceptively trouble-free; a simple outing on the outskirts of Orgrimmar near one of the many farms in the area. A lush copse of trees surrounding a small oasis that grew beds of soft multi colored moss at its shores. The foreknowledge of what was to come made the soft breeze that wended its way down the cliffs from the nearby mountain and carried young Rya's laughter all the more heartrending to hear. The warm smile on his beloved's lips as she shook out the animal skin and laid it down for him to place the basket of food on as the little one skipped around them, singing loud and off key. His feeling of completeness came as he held one beside him and the other on his knee; a calm assurance suffused his being with the knowledge that everything was right in the world. All this shattered as the arrow erupted from Taygin's throat with such force her face bounced off his knee, her tusk gouging a painful gash where it hit. The muscles in her back retracting and aiding the bounce, she slammed on to her back, driving the arrow the rest of the way through her throat. A feeling of helpless horror suffused the moment, but not at the grisly death of his loved one. Shmeegun had seen enough battle in his life to be hardened against being shocked by bloody death. What had burned the moment indelible into the troll mage's memory with such dreadfulness was the look on her face. The projectile had done its job so well that Taygin hadn't even know she had been killed, her face still held the peaceful look in her glazed over eyes, and her blood-splashed lips still held that loving smile – a smile that I could feel had only recently returned to meaning something other than rage and loss for my host, a feeling from long ago that meant absolute surety of trust and safety.

After this the visions became fragmented, the view from Shmeegun's perspective was a red haze of uncontrolled rage and anguish. The one moment of clarity contained him hoisting Rya up as he formed a shield around himself to protect them both from the storm of arrows and magic that began to rain down upon them. Chancing a last look over his shoulder at his dead wife, he saw a gleaming mass of armored Alliance troops barreling down the mountain. They had only ventured a few hundred yards from the front gates, and he could see the guards there sounding the alarm. Sprinting in his direction to help, his grief made everything look sluggish and impossibly far away. The barrage was too great even for his magic, and the shield finally collapsed, letting a poorly aimed bolt of energy graze his calf and cause him to stumble. His daughter's life, the only thing left that kept him moving, gave him the strength to hurl her towards the oncoming guards and turn to fight those that had destroyed one half of his life. Believing his daughter to be safely out of harm's way, Shmeegun let the red haze of frenzy control him once again. Dodging an incoming arrow out of pure instinct, he growled deep in his chest and threw his hands forward, letting loose a volley of iridescent missiles. Five pulses of three projectiles coursed from his hands, slamming into the nearest assailant that, in his rage, he couldn't have identified even if he had cared. Such was the power he put into the casting that it picked them off their feet and weapons were torn from their grip. The plumed helmet flew from its perch, and three attackers were smashed into a pile of tangled limbs and gore. Even within the blood frenzy, the mage's years of training, not to mention the will to live for his daughter, did not allow him to be too reckless, and, seeing the multitude closing, he switched tactics. Instinctively throwing his hands to the sky, he called down a storm of ice that brought a torrent of glittering cold daggers raining down upon a good portion of the closest attackers. The sounds of pain filled his ears and only helped fuel his seemingly endless wrath. Lost in the cloud of crimson, he barely noticed that he was no longer alone, and the defenders of Orgrimmar had finally arrived. Loosing spell after spell until his reserves of magic were exhausted, Shmeegun drew the dagger at his waist with a roar of challenge.

From there, the images started to skip from moment to bloodied moment. The passage of time became measured in breaths and the glint of the sun off the decent of his blade. He soon found himself kneeling once more on the animal skin where it had all began, pushing the dead body of one of the Allies off his betrothed. Somehow no damage had come to her head, and she still smiled her love to him from the grave. The rest of her, however, had been trampled and slashed repeatedly, leaving flesh open to the bone and entrails dragged in a gruesome mess all around her. Grief overcoming everything, Shmee gently cradled her head in his lap and gently cleaned the dirt and blood from her face as sobs wracked his huge frame.

Tears coursed down my own cheeks as I struggled to focus once again on where I was. Up ahead, I saw the great posts lashed to the stone walls that surrounded Orgrimmar as the final memories of Shmee burning Taygin in a funeral pyre somewhere in the Echo Isles off the coast of where he grew up in the Troll village of Sen'Jin. The flight tower at the center of the city came into view as I saw the final memory of my host finding out that his daughter never made it to Orgrimmar after he had sent her flying in that direction. No body was found, and she was assumed captured, which was as good as dead. Rage, frustration, anguish, helplessness, emptiness; all of these emotions tapered off into revenge that created the one purpose that kept him alive until acceptance finally took its rightful place. The images became ghost-like as I landed and watched the Nether Ray shrink back to its hand-sized statuette. Concluding impressions of friends that replaced family and a new sense of belonging that grew into the steadfast confidence that was the Shmeegun I now knew brought me back to the present with a calm I had a hard time understanding with all I had just seen.

Having a much more fundamental understanding of my host and closeness only a few could relate too, I was barely surprised when he answered my confusion.

_It be de calm of knowin' dat everyting bein' as it should. I bein' at peace wit' dis. You not be lettin' it distract you from what we doin' now._ His voice matched the calm feeling and added the understanding of what had just happened. Shaking my head, I cleared my throat of the lump that had formed there.

_I think I have a good idea of what you went through when you saw all of my memories now_. Hearing the flap of slightly echoing leathery wings, I looked up to see the familiar form of a deep blue Nether Drake approaching.

_Ay, Marc, we nevah bein' da same afta dis, but I be sayin' once again, you be worth de trust an' I bein glad dat I could share dem memories wit' someone an' have dem truly understan' what I an' I be feelin_. The full spectrum of what had just happened hit me, but being so emotionally drained effectively dampened the response to a listless sentence, thought with a weary sentimental detachment.

_Huh, wish I could do that with everyone_.

Some of the emotional detritus washed away as the ghostly blue dragon landed and a female troll that, thankfully, bore no resemblance to Taygin slid from the saddle. Placing the miniature in her pocket when it was done condensing, she walked over to me with a glint of panic in her eye.

"Just relax and act natural, Raven," I muttered to her with a smile as I placed a hand on her shoulder, "and keep in mind you're a Troll for the time being. Showing looks of surprised disgust at me smiling at you might attract the wrong kind of attention."

She chuckled slightly, then gasped at the sound; luckily there was no one close enough to notice. Wrapping my arm around her waist I guided her to the rope bridge and started across when I was startled by the gruff voice of the Tauren flight master.

"Ho, Shmeegun, well done. Good to hear Cor's death had meaning." The statement was solemn but full of pride, and with all that was going on it took me a minute to put together what he was talking about. Ravenbear wisely kept her lack of understanding from showing outwardly although I could feel her grow tense once more.

_Let I an' I be talkin to 'im, Marc_, Shmeegun spoke with his usual timeliness.

_With pleasure, my friend, but make it quick. We have a time limit and should get Ravenbear to your house as soon as we can._

_Agreed._ And with that, he took his vocal chords back while continuing to cross the expanse.

"Aye, Doras, wit' de Suneater we be havin' wat we need to bring t' fight dem demons. I be missin' da big bear, but I be knowin' he glad we got wat we be after an still livin' to tell his tale."

The pride and weariness in his voice were genuine, and the Tauren responded in the only way he could, with an upraised fist and a shouted "For the Horde!" The exclamation brought a grin of ironic recognition to both of us as our shared memories repeated the time honored saying in the game itself. Thankfully, the rest of the short walk to the Valley of Spirit and Shmeegun's' dwelling was uneventful. Just as the door to his spacious hut closed behind us, the magic of the Orb wore off, and Ravenbear stood before me once more as the eerily beautiful Draenei. Her incandescent blue eyes flitted around the room, showing that she was still on edge despite the brave front she was holding up. Shmeegun motioned for her to sit and returned the favor of food and drink. Once she was situated, I moved forward just long enough to tell her to stay here and rest while I went to check on Vyerna and hopefully to retrieve her from the small rise of cliffs to the west of Orgrimmar. She handed me the Orb with a nod.

"I hope you find her well, Marc." The sincerity was evident in the momentary muted flame of her eyes as well as her voice.

"I know I will, Tan-Ya is one tough, smart woman, and Vyerna only doubles her chances." With a nod of finality, I turned to go and let Shmee regain control for the trip. It only took him a moment to feel my unease.

_What be botherin' you Marc? You be sayin' she be ok._

_Yeah, well what I didn't say is that she has a knack for getting herself in trouble, through no fault of her own... Let's just hope the patrols are feeling a little lazy today. I do __**not**__ want to have to try and explain all this to Thrall! _I tried sounding like I was joking, but it fell way short.

Shmee's voice, however, held no humor at all. _Dat bein' de understatement of de biggest magnitude._

* * *

_**G**_athered in a small circle on the floor of the spacious arena, the four companions watched Oreo romp and frolic in silence for a few moments, enjoying the innocent happiness the raptor was radiating from being reunited with his master as well as his freedom. Located in the Valley of Honor, the stadium was rarely used, and Gasalyn had no problem requesting its use for the meeting. Guards posted at the only entrance would ensure there would be no interruptions while they compared stories and information. Taking pleasure in the oddly colored saurian's antics and the momentary privacy for a few more minutes, Nutharen finally whistled to his pet and settled him down with a leg of mutton from his pack. The stone bleachers surrounding the sand-covered pit in which they sat gave echoed, if muted, testimony to the satisfied gulps and chomps of Oreo devouring his meal before he settled down for a nap . Head in his beloved trainer's lap, he was blissfully unaware of the troubles concerning the group and chuffed contentedly. Granted the right to start as befitted her station, Gasalyn spent some time patiently answering Nutharen's questions about what had happened to Radamantis and himself. After a number of answers had been given, she looked expectantly at Radamantis; barely a moment passed before Joe spoke up. "He says he is well and just wants to hear what has befallen the others." Gasalyn nodded as the young male in her head stated in a matter of fact tone.

_He doesn't say much, does he_?

_Radamantis has always been one of few words ever since his arrival in the ranks of the Horde. His loyalty is unquestioned as is his skill so we do not press him._

_Yeah_, Jake said with his characteristic sarcasm, _after what I saw him do earlier I can understand why!_

Having no need to respond, Gasalyn then encouraged Jake to take control and tell the others his story. He began with what had befallen him from the moment he arrived in the Plaguelands and the nasty run in with the Gargoyle complete with the subsequent discovery of his wand and its use leading him to the understanding of how his magic worked. With some chuckles from Shelly and the others at his flair for pissing people off, he continued right up until the rude awakening that morning, somehow leaving out his misunderstanding of the summoning portal.

Giving him an 'anything else to add?' look, Masharret and Shelly shook a combined head and explained what they had experienced up until the point where the warlock had summoned Gasalyn/Jake to Orgrimmar. More than a few laughs were heard at the expense of Jake having to be summoned four times, to which he gave a wistful shrug and a meek "how was I supposed to know?" which elicited another round of jibes and good-natured chuckles. They then filled in the blanks from their point of view after Jake had arrived which, again, ended with that morning.

Since Joe and Harley had arrived together, their individual stories took little time. When Harley was forced to recount the incident at the farm, his counterpart was much more understanding of his reaction now that they shared minds and apologized for his initial outburst. Waving it off as forgiven, he and Joe recounted the run through Duskwood where they had first seen Radamantis in action. They continued with the entrance into Grom Gol and their first meeting with Leani. This ignited a short debate on whether or not Tanya was Leani and vice versa. Theories of their friend's state of being and if she was lost in the warriors consciousness also spawned the subject of Marc and Shmeegun. Raising her hand, Shelly got everyone's attention.

"Masharret asks that we put those debates on hold for a moment and finish getting all the information first." Everyone settled down again, and Joe continued the tale with the arrival at Undercity. He and Harley described the place with obvious awe, focusing on the little differences they had witnessed in there to Shelly and Jake, causing the conversation to become animated once again between the human friends. Not wanting to interrupt, but knowing they couldn't afford the tangent conversation, Gasalyn reminded Jake that she needed their view on what had happened to the Abomination in Leani's report.

Both Harley and Joe were quick to mention the oddity of the creature's speech as well as the suicide attack of the wraith. Harley took one moment of liberty to rave about the undead warrior's fighting ability.

"You guys should have seen her, I mean, **bam** with the thunderclap and **wham**, lightning bolt to the face – owned!" He quickly suppressed his excitement but didn't miss the slight grin on Gasalyn's face. Controlling the humor at the well known gaming term that had become so widely used in Jake's reality, Gasalyn moved forward to attempt to organize what they had learned.

"Now that we have all the points of view on what has happened in these last few days, let us try to make some sense of things, and in doing so gain some answers to all our questions." They all nodded with little noises of acquiescence, and she began a list.

"You and your friends, the ones here with us at least," she added as an afterthought, "arrived here with no knowledge of how or why." She held up her hand to forestall any questions or answers on this point and they let her continue.

"As we of Azeroth in this group have learned, there is no magic in your world, but within Jake's memory, I have discovered something called a worm hill..."

_Hole_, Jake corrected her with a slight chuckle, _worm hole_.

"... Worm **Hole**," Gasalyn amended. She paused a moment to focus more intently on his memories and familiarize herself with them before continuing. "These worm holes, from what I understand are not unlike our portal magic in how they function, but they are extremely unstable and are only believed to be in your 'outer space.' With that in mind, I posit the theory that you have arrived here through a combination of both portal magic from this realm and your worm holes." Both Radamantis and Nutharen's eyes grew wide with understanding, and Jake began jabbering excitedly inside Gasalyn's head until she once again held up her hand for those around her and silently asked him to please wait a while longer. This accomplished, she was about to begin again when she saw the puzzled look on Masharret's face.

"You do not know of these worm holes, Shelly?" she asked her, divining the meaning of the look through logic.

"No, I've heard of them, but I've never been much of a science person, or in this case science fiction." There was no shame in her answer, just simple fact that was characteristic of the female player they all knew well. Before the undead Princess even thought the question, Jake filled her in on the fact that worm holes were only a theory that fit certain phenomena in his reality. They had never been physically proven to exist, but science fiction writers had taken the idea for use in their stories and used them in much the same way Gasalyn understood them to work. This all happening at the speed of thought, no real time passed for the group, and Gasalyn nodded at Shelly before continuing.

"Although I know of few beings with the kind of power and knowledge to manipulate forces of that magnitude, they do exist. The question here is why, what would they have to gain by bringing you and why lock you within our minds?" She let that question hang and Joe picked up the line.

"I've been mulling that over," his gravelly voice successfully conferring its thoughtfulness, "and I think it's way too random. If what you say is true, and someone or something brought us here, then I think something went wrong in the process."

Shelly nodded. "Masharret agrees with you, Joe. She says it sounds very similar to the problems they have been having with the portal magic here." A quick search through memories brought everyone up to speed on that subject, and Gasalyn continued once more.

"We will come back to the debate on that later and move on so we do not get side tracked. The next point we must discuss is the one we set aside earlier, that of your two missing friends." She spoke quickly, beginning to understand the human's penchant for unorganized debate and discussion. "Again, from what I have gathered from memories, there were six of you who regularly engaged in the playing of this 'game' that is such a close representation of our world. It would seem to me that being tied together in the camaraderie, this action brought about would have also linked you all together for this 'mass teleport' idea we have come up with. That being said, I am fairly confident in suggesting that this Marc and his wife Tan-ya will be here as well." They all nodded in agreement and waited, adjusting quickly to the undead mage's leadership abilities. An additional nod of appreciation accompanied a smile from Gasalyn as she moved on. "That leads us neatly to our other tabled subject; **is** your friend Tan-Ya within the mind of our warrior Leani?" She had been moving her gaze over all of them as she asked the question, and as it fell on Masharret, she saw her eyes go wide in amazement. Turning to see what it was at the entrance that had caused Shelly's reaction, she saw the air shimmer a mere few paces in front of her. The sound of both Radamantis and Nutharen leaping to their feet was accompanied by the growl of the raptor and the whisper of metal against leather as the rogue drew his blades.

The years of magical training made it easy for Gasalyn to recognize the sight as an invisibility spell ending; what had her amazed enough to still be sitting was that instead of one being appear, there were three! The largest and center-most being bore the familiar face of the Troll mage Shmeegun; his head lowered and gasping, it was he who had most likely cast the spell. To his right was an unfamiliar female troll who seemed to be dressed as a mage, but the markings on the clothing were unfamiliar. Her jaw was set in a grimace of control as her eyes took in the room's inhabitants. The one to the right quickly caught all of their attention and suspicion. Oreo's growl deepened, and the Tauren put a restraining hand on his head, bringing the growl back to a low rumble. Fully enclosed in thick animal skin robes, the hidden being barely measured up to the middle of Shmeegun's torso. The hood was drawn so far forward to make the face completely lost in shadow, but it couldn't hide how slight the figure was beneath, and Gasalyn guessed her to be of the Blood Elf race. Holding up his massive blue hand, palm down to show he meant no threat, the mage gulped a breath of obvious relief.

"I an' I sure bein' glad dat worked!" He looked up at Gasalyn with a grin. "Betchoo didn't be knowin' you could do dat, Princess."

She just shook her head, speechless at the display of power, and Jake took the opportunity to move forward and ask the obvious question.

"Marc, is that you?" His voice was timid with fear and hope warring inside his head.

"Always tinkin', dats my Jake, but you bein' careful who you askin'." The big blue troll responded with an even wider grin. Then, as much as he wanted to embrace his friends, he held up both hands before the others rushed him.

"Wait, please be waitn' a minit," he paused for one more breath. "I an' I bein' very glad you all alive an' well. An' I bein' vera happy to be seein' you all again, but I be askin' a big favor of all. An' I be meanin' **all**," he swept his arm to encompass those in the room, "includin' dose dat be de owners of deez bodies we ben' sharin'." He paused again and waited for everyone to acknowledge that they understood. While everyone sat back down slowly, and Harley calmed his pet, it took Radamantis a few extra moments to sheath his blades and sit cross legged with a nod. Sighing with relief, the big troll's shoulders sagged even more than the others thought one of his race's postures could manage. Gasalyn caught the female troll lightly touch Shmeegun on the arm, and he nodded imperceptibly in response. Straightening up to his full height and rolling his shoulders to ease more of the tension, he gave another small sigh.

"Dis favor I be askin' be havin' two parts..." He began.

"Nothing's ever easy with you, Shmee," Jake joked halfheartedly.

"You bein' so right dis time, Jake," he responded with a look so serious that the young man sobered immediately.

"First I be needin' a promise, your word dat you be trustin' me as boat' Marc **an' **Shmeegun." The statement was met with confused looks, and the troll forged on, sounding rushed. "Dey dat bein' from Azeroth be trustin' Shmegun wit der lives, and dem dat be from Marc's world be trustin' him to be doin' de right ting!" They looked at each other for only a moment and were startled when Shmee spoke again, the urgency in his voice causing him to almost yell. "Please! Dis be a time sens-tive ting!" They quickly agreed and spoke as one saying as such. Sighing once more in release, he continued more quietly, but his gaze was no less intense. "Den I be needin' ever-one to do nottin' when what be happin' nex' happins." He turned toward the female troll, then paused, looking back. "An' remember, trust me." This last he deliberately spoke slowly and without the accent to make the point very clear. He reached a hand out to the female once more, and she reluctantly withdrew something from inside her robe. As it came into sight, she cast a quick glance of fear at those seated before her. Holding it out to Shmee, everyone saw it to be a golden sphere, and Jake heard a gasp of recognition in his head just as she closed her eyes tightly and handed it to the big troll.

Luckily Gasalyn had told the guards that they were not to be disturbed for any reason because the next few moments were filled with shouts of surprise, confusion, and not a little outrage as the true form of Ravenbear was revealed. Then all noise stopped abruptly in total shock as the fearful young Draenei buried herself into the arms of a mortal enemy for protection, and a whimper of fear could be heard escaping from the darkened hood beside him. He leaned in close to the hood, his tusks almost catching the fabric, and said something too low for any of them to hear and watched the hood nod once. Looking back up at everyone, his eyes pleading, Shmeegun struggled to speak in calm tones.

"I be askin' for your trust because tings not bein' what dey seem! I know dis be hard, but I be needin' you all to be tryin' to be unnerstandin'. Now you be seein' why I need you to be doin' nottin'." He placed a gentle hand on the horned head of the Draenei and coaxed her to look up and open her eyes. As she did, he looked directly at Masharret. "Shelly," he waited until she nodded, "dis be Ravenbear." The look of shock on her face would have been comical in any other situation with her jawbone almost falling out of its socket and eyes freakishly wide. But as the memories filtered to those of Azeroth and Jake, Joe, and Harley caught up, so did the bewilderment. Finally catching her breath, Shelly spoke up.

"How..." was all she could come up with, and Shmeegun grinned.

"Dat bein' a long story," he glanced down at the Draenei with the grin, and they all saw her form a small one in return, the fear in her eyes dropping a notch. He gently released her and let her stand just behind his massive form as he turned to the other mystery guest and began to speak again almost to himself.

"As I an' I be walkin in here wit deez two, I be hearin' you talkin' bout Leani and Tan-ya, and I be talkin' to Shmee an' hopin dat you all traded minds already. Den I be tinkin' dat dose of you frum de otha world not be knowin' some tings I be knowin' cause we all not be livin' t'getha." He placed a hand softly on the robed figure's back. "Marc's friens all be remembrin' dat Tan-ya not be playin all dat much, yah?" They looked at each other, then nodded slowly as they looked back at him. "An' I can be answerin' dat question 'bout Leani... she not bein Tan-ya. See, she been playin wit her lil nephew, an' you all be knowin dat de little ones be likin' dem Alliance." Understanding began to dawn on all their faces, and Shmee nodded as he finished. "Tan-ya been playin' wit dey youngin' and playin' a lot. So when what happin' to us happin', she be comin' here an' bein' locked in de one she be playin' mos'." He slowly drew the hood back, revealing the frightened golden eyes and dark markings of the Night Elf.

A small commotion brought everyone's attention to where Radamantis had quickly stood and was backing away with a look of unrestrained horror.

"Joe, what..." Shelly began but Harley cut her off, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop any sudden action she might make.

"That's not Joe," he almost whispered. "His movements are far too precise. That's Rad."

Everyone stood stock still until the rogue had backed himself into the arena wall. He stood there; the look slowly changing from horror to anguish then to desperation as he spoke a single word that only he and three others understood.

"Vyerna?"

"_**S**_he knows him," Tanya said, causing confused but curious looks from the others.

"What?!" I responded, swinging my head towards her, catching myself before my tusks took her head off. My question, spoken in the Alliance tongue, caused even more bewilderment among the group, to which I held up a finger asking them to wait.

"Verna, she knows Rad; well, used to know him anyway." I looked over at the rogue who was crouched against the far wall, head down and trying to compose himself.

"Radiel Benton, that was his name... when he was human." The awed horror in her voice spoke volumes to the fact that she was just finding this out as well. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back with a deep intake of breath, held it for a moment, then released it as I brought my head back down reopening my eyes.

_Where's a Shaman when you need one_. I thought sarcastically.

_Why you be needin a Shamon, Marc?_ Shmeegun responded to the rhetorical question, reminding me of his presence.

_It wasn't a serious... Let me explain some things to the others, and you'll see what I meant._

_Fair enough, mon_. His tone was amiable enough, but I could hear the frustration, an irritation that was also apparent in the expressions around me as well. I held out my hands in a 'hold on' gesture to get everyone's attention.

"Please, dis be difficult for all'v us. You be havin' many questions an' I be havin' some answers, but not all. We be needin' to take tings one at a time an' be slowin' down." I turned to Tanya and was once again reminded of the beauty of the Elvin races in this reality as Vyerna's eyes caught mine.

Switching languages, once again I asked, "Can you explain what is going on with Rad to Ravenbear while I try to work some things out with the others?" She nodded an affirmative, and before she moved I caught her once more, a fleeting idea crossing my mind.

"Also, see if she and Vyerna can work out something to breech this language barrier." Nodding again, I let her go and turned back to the group before me as they began to quietly confer behind me.

"Now den, I be startin' wit de obvious question; how I be speakin' Allied speak."

"Yes," Jake spoke up, "Gasalyn says no troll has ever spoken it before, but if they could learn, it would make things much easier for any future confrontations between the Alliance and Horde."

"Wit' de talkin' t'de Alliance, I be listenin' wit Marc's ears an' not Shmee's. Den it jus' bein' a matta to be openin' 'is mind to I an' I's perception. Howeva', dat be takin' too much time to be explainin', an' we be comin' bact to it."

"How do you do that?" Shelly asked, sounding both confused and hopeful. Before I could answer, I felt a tug on my robe and found the young Night Elf at my side once again.

"We have a few ideas about the language thing, but Vyerna would like to talk to Rad first. Think you can teach Joe to do what you do so I... we can talk to him?" Her voice pleaded but her face remained neutral.

"I was just about to tell them about that. I'm pretty sure they'll get it, but it will take time and patience on both sides." I rested a big blue hand on her shoulder, and she smiled with a nod. I turned once again and addressed everyone.

"I be supposin' you all been sharin' stories, ya?" There were some vocal responses, and everyone nodded. "Den I be sharin' mine now. It be explainin' a lot and makin' more questions, I bein' sure. But be knowin' dat our time be short; we be needin' to talk to Thrall soon." A few gasps and some surprised looks had my hand up once again.

"Not 'bout all dis mess," I reassured them. "It be bout news we be hearin' from Velen de Prophet in de Exodar."

"The Exodar!" Harley interrupted, his bass voice booming in surprise.

"It be all in da story, please be patient!" My frustration was starting to show, and the others could hear it and made an effort to let me finish.

"I be tellin da story, den be tellin you all de news we have, den we be discussing tings." I left no room for argument, knowing that time was short. After a few moments, everyone nodded, and even Joe rejoined the group, keeping a watchful but expectant eye on Vyerna. I looked at everyone and gave one last nod before I began.

"I an' I bein' in Shattrath after escaping from de Mechanar when A'dal be speakin' to me..." As I related the conversation, looks of wonder formed all around. I explained what had happened when I stepped into the portal and my subsequent landing in the Exodar. The adventure there including the separation of me and Shmee drew gasps of amazement and a flurry of speculation that I asked to be held off once again. When I began to relate the meeting between me and Ravenbear and how I began to communicate with her, there were slow nods of understanding. I relayed the journey back into the Exodar and meeting with Velen, how I was treated and how his insight had shown him the truth before he was told. When I came to the account of trading memories during sleep, Jake interrupted me.

"Sorry to stop you, Marc, but Gasalyn says she should give the guards outside some sort of explanation. She believes we're gonna be here a while longer and wants to send a message to Thrall that she will meet with him as soon as we are done here." His voice was half-statement half-question.

"Dat bein a good plan. While you be doin dat, I be needin to talk to Joe." I looked over at the rogue, and he looked back with a resigned dread, like he knew it had to happen sooner or later. With that, Gasalyn stood and took control of her body to go talk to the guards. As she left, I led Joe over into one of the alcoves around the bottom of the arena as the others discussed what they had learned so far in hushed voices. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I spoke quietly.

"Joe, you be tinkin' you can hear like I be sayin' an' be talkin' to de Night Elf?" I indicated the small cloaked figure with a slight toss of my head in her direction.

"I can try; I'm sure if you can do it Shme... er- Marc, anyone can." He gave a half-hearted grin at the attempted joke, and I gave a more heartfelt one back. He shuddered slightly and his grin faded as I did, confusing me.

"What?" I asked. He hesitated for a moment then looked embarrassed.

"No offence to Shmeegun but... well, up close, Trolls really are scary when they grin." There was a pause, and I heard Shmee chuckle.

_No one but de Trolls see de beauty of de Trolls but de Trolls_. He spoke with an ironic humor that gave the impression of years of tolerance and acceptance, and I chuckled out loud.

"No offence takin' Joe. It be soundin' like Shmee be havin' no delusion bout what he is, an' he bein' jus' fine wit' it." He looked relieved and paused with a surprised but familiar look of listening to the internal voice. A short laugh escaped him, causing the others to pause in their conversation to look over in amused curiosity. He waved them off, speaking quietly to me once again.

"Radamantis just told me to tell Shmeegun that, with all due respect to the esteemed mage, Trolls are just plain ugly." At that my counterpart laughed uproariously, and I couldn't help but chuckle again myself. Breathing a sigh of relief that the rogue had regained his composure, I steadied myself to reintroduce him with Vyerna. My face became serious once more, and Joe sobered his own in understanding.

"I an' I be needin' you to be askin' Rad if he bein' ready to do dis." The coal black eyes took on a faraway look for a few moments, then seemed to refocus. When Joe spoke, it was with a voice full of emotion and awkwardness.

"Rad has been locking those memories away for so long that even when we traded consciousnesses, I didn't get a hint of it until she came into the room. I can't even begin to explain how all-consuming that memory was when it hit." I cut him off with a knowing look.

"You not be needin' to, Joe. I be knowin'." He paused as he searched my face and realized I knew precisely what he meant before he continued.

"Well I'm sure Tanya must have told you something about it from Vyerna's point of view."

"Only dat dey knew each otha' when Rad be human." I interrupted again.

"Yeah... well, it's not something he really wants to remember, but if there is anything I learned from him and his memories, it's that he doesn't back down from much. Guess we have that in common, huh," he said with a half-grin, and I waited for him to continue. The grin faded, and he sighed. "He says that if I can translate, then he'll listen." He sounded unsure of himself, and I patted him once on the shoulder in reassurance.

"You jus be rememberin' to listen wit de Joe ears; it be hard at first an' you be missin' some of what she be sayin', but you be stayin' focus an' it be gettin' easier. Jus be tinkin' bout listenin' to Tan'-Ya an' not an Ally." He nodded, and I turned to motion the young Priestess over. As I did, Gasalyn re-entered the room and pulled the attention of the others, who I saw from the embarrassed looks had been eavesdropping, back to her. Vyerna virtually glided over to join us and, much to everyone's astonishment gave Radamantis a hug. The look of shock on the rogue's face was absolute, and it took a few moments before he hesitantly returned the gesture. Vyerna slowly pulled back, and I saw tears brimming in her golden eyes.

Not wanting to intrude on the awkward reunion, I went to join the others when I caught Ravenbear out of the corner of my eye. Looking over, I saw her appearing very alone and still somewhat frightened. Changing my path, I moved toward her and caught her eye with a slight smile of reassurance. She smiled in return, her relief genuine as she took the hand I offered her and allowed me to lead her to join the group. I motioned for us to all sit before we continued, and as we did Gasalyn, still in control of her body, asked a question.

"So she is unable to understand us?" He question held nothing but curiosity.

"She be knowin' vereh little bout de Horde an' nevah be speakin' wit dem, no."

"But you can understand her when she speaks and can speak with her." It was more of a statement than a question, and I nodded. Gasalyn paused, looking thoughtful, then looked at me very intensely when she asked the next question.

"You trust her?"

"Wit' me vereh life, Princess." I answered without hesitation. She looked thoughtfully at the Draenei for a few moments then back at me.

"If that is so, then we would be remiss in our duties as representatives of House Exiled if we did not formally introduce ourselves. Please translate for us if you would." She leaned forward and extended a clawed hand toward the Alliance mage.

"My name is Gasalyn Bageren, representative of House Exiled and negotiator between Horde and Alliance. With me is Jake, one of Marc's friends. Welcome to Orgrimmar, Ravenbear." She finished with a nod of respect and Ravenbear looked at me in confusion. I quickly translated what had been said and why. A look of firm respect replaced the confusion, and she accepted the outstretched hand with a smile, eyes glowing. Each of the group repeated the greeting and handshake. Then, without warning, Oreo trotted forward from Nutharen's side and approached the Draenei. Everyone looked surprised, and even the two in the alcove stopped their conversation to watch. I quickly placed a restraining hand on Raven's knee so she wouldn't make any sudden move as her eyes grew wide with fear. Looking past Oreo, I saw Nutharen, and he grinned.

"He's just curious. It's weird Marc; I can feel it. Just keep her calm, and it'll be fine." I nodded once and whispered quickly to Raven.

"Stay calm. He means no harm; he's just curious." She swallowed hard and did her best to relax as the raptor snuffled around her face, his breath causing her to cringe. Bringing his head back after a few sniffs he chuffed once, then nosed his spiny head near one of her hands. She glanced over at me, less afraid but still unsure, and I smiled in amusement.

"He wants you to pet him," I whispered with a grin. She looked back at the patiently waiting reptile in amazement and hesitantly reached a hand out, touching the bridge of his nose. He leaned into the gesture a little and chirped once as she scratched the boney plates. Everyone laughed and a smile of pure joy swallowed Ravenbear's face. After a few moments, Oreo pulled back, gave one final, satisfied chuff, and returned to lay his head in his master's lap. With everyone much more relaxed, it was easier to get back to the business at hand. Quieting everyone down, I resumed my tale.

Beginning where I had left off, I explained how I thought it would be easier to attempt to let Shmee see my memories than to try to explain our reality to him. I could see by the haunted looks that the others hadn't done so voluntarily. Assuring them that I wanted to hear what they had learned after I was done, I finished with the theory I had come up with about multiple universes and how Velen had said there were too many coincidences for it to be believable. The others nodded in agreement, and I waved it off, saying we could figure it out later before telling them the news I had received from Velen just before we left. A sudden look of disbelief bordering on outrage came over Gasalyn, and before she could say anything, I assured her that Shmeegun had told me that he knew nothing of any troop movements in that area either.

"Be that as it may, we all know that wars have begun over less. We must get this information to Thrall as soon as possible!" She had begun to stand as she spoke, and I stopped her with an upraised hand.

"Dis bein' a problem, Gasalyn; how you be tellin' Thrall where de information be comin' from an' not be tellin' him 'bout us?"

"I have many contacts among the Allies and I... or Jake was at Lights Hope Chapel yesterday speaking with some of them."

"Dat bein' yesterday, Thrall be wonderin' why you not be tellin' him sometin' dis important now and not den." Her face fell and I sympathized with her plight. Just then, Joe spoke up from the corner.

"Well we just arrived a few hours ago... and in somewhat of an **altered** state. Maybe we can say we found out when we were near Goldshire." His voice was optimistic, and Nutharen nodded hopefully.

"But you bein' wit Leani, an' den she be wonderin' why you not be tellin' her somptin' so important." I reasoned sadly, and the others became crestfallen once again. Silence ensued while all of us tried to find a feasible explanation for the information when Tanya spoke suddenly in Vyerna's lilting voice.

"There may be one more piece to the puzzle that Vyerna has, Marc, and I think the idea she and Ravenbear came up with may speed all this information gathering up dramatically." The others besides the Draenei looked at me expectantly, and I repeated what she had said while looking at the allied mage for conformation. She shrugged but gave a look that said it was possible while the others asked for more information. Holding up a hand for patience, I waited for her to resume. With a resigned sigh, Tanya continued.

"I don't believe there is a way for the Alliance to speak directly to the Horde, but if we use the same process here that we did in the Exodar, we might be able to get the information from Vyerna to the others through imagery." Before I could dissent, she continued.

"I know, I know; the idea of sharing minds again doesn't exactly thrill me either, but if we focus on just the surface thoughts, it should be less overwhelming. Plus, this way the others can fill you in on what's happened to them quickly, and everyone will be on the same page." She finished with a shrug, and although I was still a bit apprehensive, I couldn't ignore the logic of the plan. Turning to the others, I laid out the plan and explained what to expect. As I finished, I was surprised to see Rad shaking his head with a slight grin. The rogue stayed in the alcove as Joe explained.

"Radamantis says he has enough people in his head and will wait for someone to tell us what's going on." I chuckled at the ironic humor and nodded as another thought occurred to me.

"Speaking of explanations…" I looked at Gasalyn to get her attention. "You should send a guard to Thrall regardless of what we decide." She said nothing for a moment, considering the request then nodded as well.

"He will be anxious to know what is going on, and sending someone to tell him something is a good idea, but with what message?" She was calm but curious as she asked, and I thought for a moment before responding.

"Tell him... tell him we need to see him, but only him, and that we will explain everything when he gets here. Explain to the guard that it is important that he tell no one and go directly to his Warchief with this message. Hopefully we will have figured out what to say by the time he gets here." I finished with an abashed grin and a shrug. Gasalyn nodded and headed towards the entrance.

As we waited I heard the muttered voices of Joe and Tanya from the alcove discussing lost time and hoped that some form of connection could be reestablished between the former friends. Harley's three-fingered furry hand was resting on the raptor's head as it lay contentedly in his lap. He was murmuring quiet assurances to his pet ,and for a moment I wondered if it was, in fact, Nutharen doing the talking at that moment. Shelly seemed to be lost in thought until I saw her nod once and figured she was deep in conversation with Masharret about what subject, I couldn't fathom. I glanced over my left shoulder at Ravenbear and found her looking over the group of companions with simple curiosity. There was no fear in her expression, and I was proud of the fact that she had the adaptability to adjust to the situation so quickly. Her gaze passed to me and saw that I was looking at her and smiled. I returned the grin just as Gasalyn come back. All eyes turned to her as she spoke in her gravelly voice.

"The guard has been sent. It will not take him long to deliver the message, so we must act quickly." I nodded and gathered the others. Rad stayed in the darkened niche as Vyerna moved to join us, and Ravenbear stayed where she was, having no need for involvement. The others adjusted themselves into a circle with space for the young priestess to join. Repeating the process she had performed in the Exodar, she explained that everyone should only focus on surface thoughts. She turned and spoke directly to me.

"Tell them to think like they are having a conversation with you and tell you what has transpired. When all of them have finished, I will open myself up to everyone and share the images I have seen. You will have to answer any questions they have to the best of your ability. This should not take too long, providing it works." Her mouth curved with an ironic smirk. I nodded and translated her request to the others. They nodded slowly, and I could feel the nervous tension in the room rise a notch. Vyerna closed her eyes with one last appeal.

"Please ask them to calm themselves as much as possible; it will be less difficult to link us all if they are relaxed." I relayed her instructions and everyone took a calming breath and closed their eyes trying to calm down. The young Night Elf began to recite the spidery words of magic, and the blue ring of flame appeared above her head. As with before, she linked all those present with their own rings connected by a thin thread of flame. Once the last bond was made, I felt a quick surge of emotion from the others and knew the spell had worked.

I quietly spoke Jake's name first and a surge of images, narrated by his familiar boyish voice poured into my mind. The experience was nowhere near as overwhelming as Shmeegun's memories, but it was still a little dizzying. I adjusted quickly and let the flow of information integrate into my thoughts. Repeating the method with Shelly and Harley, I realized just how lucky we all were to even be here alive and breathing! With all that had occurred, it was amazing that none of us were killed or had just gone insane! It was Vyerna's turn, and I warned the others that it might be a bit rough. They affirmed their readiness, and I relayed it to the priestess joined with my wife. She nodded and took a deep breath.

When it hit me I gasped involuntarily and scrambled to try to slow it down as it transferred to the others. I felt Shmee attempt to lend his strength but the pure emotional content of the vision was too raw, and I heard the others gasp and cry out as the stream of consciousness plowed into them. It was like grabbing a live wire and not being able to let go; muscles knotted and locked, teeth clenched, nostrils flared and a chorus of keening grew from the throats of all those involved. As quickly as it started, the cacophony of information stopped, and when my muscles relaxed enough to allow me to open my eyes and release her hand, I saw Rad cradling the unconscious form of Vyerna.

Before we could fully recover, the heavy shod sound of booted footsteps echoed outside the entrance.

_Dat bein Thrall. He gonna be wonderin why dem Alliance be here._ The mage in my head sounded worried but not panicked.

_Yeah, I kinda figured that,_ I replied with a little more sarcasm than I had intended. Leaving the apologies for later, I started to say something when Gasalyn whispered fiercely.

"Radamantis, take the Night Elf out of sight. And you," she looked at me, "give the Draenei back the Orb and let me talk to Thrall." I nodded, thankful for her quick decision-making skills and quickly got up to hand the Orb to Ravenbear. She took it without question, reverting to her female troll disguise with a shimmer and edged back toward the alcove beside the entrance. I turned back to join the others and found Radamantis and Vyerna already gone. Moving to stand beside Shelly, I watched Gasalyn meet the imposing figure of Thrall as he crossed the doorway; her grace and decorum automatically adjusting to the situation. Being the first time I had seen him, I had no trouble understanding why he commanded the respect of his followers so easily. His presence alone was not only intimidating, but inspiring at the same time. Dressed in simple leathers, his green skin showed through in many places while his black hair flowed from his forehead down his back in a loose ponytail, just covering the mighty hammer slung across his back. His face, though filled with the jutting sharp tusks of his race and black piercing eyes, was easily able to show concern for his supporters.

As Gasalyn began to impart information to the Horde leader with carefully-honed political skill, I looked down at Shelly. Noticing the move, she looked up, and I saw the look in her eyes that told me what she had seen in the vision had affected her as well.

"The face," she whispered, "was that who I think it was?" she asked, and I could tell she didn't want to be right.

I nodded slightly and sighed, knowing things had just gotten a whole lot worse. There was a look of concerned interest on Thrall's face as Gasalyn continued spinning the tale, but I was still thinking about what had just happened and couldn't pay attention to what she was saying. I felt a tug on my sleeve and looked sidelong at Shelly as she whispered.

"Masharret wants to know what it was that was said in the vision, the words that were spoken." It took a moment for me to figure out what she was asking, and then the voice echoed back in my head.

_**The devil is in exile, and exile is in the devil. **_

I had no idea what it meant, but the ethereal voice held a warning tone in it. I whispered the words to Shelly and supposed she repeated them to Masharret. It took only a moment, but I heard her sigh again just as Gasalyn motioned toward, us and Thrall's eyes were on the group. As they both advanced toward us, I could only think of the face in the vision and what it meant. The face of a demon; the face of Doom Lord Kazzak.

* * *

_**A**_fter the fall of Kil'Jaeden (cohort to Archimonde and servant to Sargeras), Kazzak had spent his time hidden in the poisonous mists of the tainted scar, a foul and dark place found in the area of Azeroth known as the blasted lands. The demon had pondered the defeat of his master while sowing fear and confusion with his legion of doomguard. His only purpose was the reopening of the portal to Outland; either to join with Illidan Stormrage the betrayer or fight him. The once Night Elf and brother to Malfurion had become obsessed with power while hunting and slaying demons, only to end up become what he most hated. Kazzak ended up taking the throne of his former leader atop a mountain in the Hellfire Peninsula, while the betrayer ruled the halls of the Black Temple in Shadowmoon Valley. Once a refuge for the prophet Velen hundreds of years ago, the temple became corrupted by the forces of Kil'Jaeden, and eventually the Burning Legion used it as a staging ground for its war on Azeroth. After the forces of the Legion were pushed back, Illidan, mad with power, took it as his home where he and his underlings pushed for their control over the shattered realm.

All of this and more was on Kazzak's mind as he stood on the massive stone pedestal he had claimed his own not so long ago. The next layer of his plan was cue to begin, and a silent call brought half a dozen of the wraith-like beings floating to him, their red eyes radiating their need to serve.

"Go now, my servant," his voice was a clarion call in their minds. "Find those in charge of the human forces and fill their thoughts with fear and paranoia. Drive them to the only course possible, the course I choose." They receded and were gone without a sound, and Kazzak returned to his musings. With a wave of his hand and a muttered word, he opened a window into the maze of portals that Shmeegun and Marc had so recently traveled through. It took but a thought, and he was able to trace the gossamer filaments to see one of the portals through the mystical viewport. Switching to a wider view, he watched as flashes of light coursed along the web-like lines, representing those brave enough to still use the portals, traveling to and fro. Many of the portals within Azeroth and Outland were readily available to him if he chose to travel them. Others, such as the one he brought into view showing the limp form of Tanya laying on her living room floor, were not. This limit on his power frustrated him to no end, and the interruption of his original plan only added to his irritation. He felt a small sense of satisfaction that he was able to turn the failure into a new and devious plan, but it annoyed him that he had failed at all.

Leaving that behind with a quick shake of his massive head, he flipped between images of these humans from another realm. Though small and weak like many races he had dealt with in the past, these humans were intriguing. It hadn't been long after he had opened the Dark Portal with the ancient relic found in Azeroth and stepped into Outland to claim the throne that he had felt the relic still humming with power. Knowing the gateway to Outland to be stable, and unaware of any other use for the artifact, he began to experiment with it. After a few false starts, he created a small but stable rip in the fabric of reality. He had been genuinely surprised to see a young human in strange clothing sitting in front of a glowing box though the opening. Thinking it to be a denizen of Azeroth practicing some unknown form of divination, the shimmering cube showed pictures the demon could not make out. He reached to pull the mortal through and consume him as well as his knowledge. His roar of shock and rage shook the blighted valley around him as his hand was burned and repelled by an invisible electrical field covering the threshold.

Angered at being injured even such a small way, but more enraged by the fact that anything could be beyond his reach, the beast stormed around the basin surrounding his throne. Heedless of their cries, he slew his underlings without thought until his rage abated. Those who were below the mountain in Hellfire peninsula that day swore that new cracks opened in the already fractured surface and molten fire spewed even higher during his rampage.

Once the rage had faded from his vision, Kazzak found that what minions he had left had lain prostrated before him. He realized with a smirk that they were waiting to live or die as he willed it. With a grunt he had left them that way and gone back to the source of his humiliation with the only regret being that he would have to expend more energy, however small, to replenish his ranks. As he glowered at the human he could not touch, he was interrupted by the groveling of an Abomination who had some irrelevant information or some such paltry request for his attention. Thinking to smash the putrid bag of undead flesh, Kazzak raised his fist, then stopped as a joyously malicious idea came to him. Grabbing the mewling mass of rotted flesh he spoke a guttural phrase that caused his open claw to glow with a sickly black and green radiance. Plunging it into the center of the fetid being, causing it to shriek in unimaginable pain, he pulled what passed for a soul from it with a grin. Tossing the twice dead corpse lightly to the ground beside him, he used the ragged shadow-like soul as a power source to fuel a summoning spell instead of wasting his own energy. Focusing on the human within the gateway, he enacted the magic, consuming the spirit he held and compelling the being through the portal. With any other summon, he would expect the being to be transported immediately to his side. Instead, much to his surprise, the individual stood quickly, grabbing his head, and began to scramble around madly. Finally collapsing on the floor of the room he was in, Kazzak saw a swirling blue cone form above him, blocking his view of the unconscious creature. Moments after that, a brilliant flash of light erupted in his hand, causing him to shade his eyes. When he opened them, he found that the consumed essence of the Abomination had been replaced by a vaporous likeness of the human form in the porthole. Wasting no time trying to figure out how this had happened and resisting the urge to simply consume the energy, Kazzak quickly shoved the spirit into the only available body, that of the recently deceased Abomination. The body still lay inert after he withdrew his hand, and he quickly cast a spell and saw that the essence had successfully bonded with the body and was just unconscious.

He stood, a rare quizzical look on his face, as he pondered the situation. In all the millennia he and his demonic brethren had existed, he had never heard of a summoning being used in such a way. To compel the very essence of a being from its body... he had torn many a spirit from its host with relish and consumed it along with the sweet agony the owner had exuded at death; but this was something new. As he deliberated over this new development, he absently called a few of his underlings and instructed them to quickly build a cage. Completed within a few minutes, he almost gently placed his unwitting creation within its confines and finished the enclosure with a simple binding spell. With the thought of gathering much needed information easily, Kazzak went through the painful metamorphosis of assuming a human form.

It wasn't long before the creature's eyelids fluttered open, and the Abomination sat up quickly in its cage.

"What... Where..." Its voice horribly wrong and unfamiliar, the creature grabbed its own throat and then cried out again as it saw its hands... all three of them. Letting it suffer in its confusion and enjoying himself, Kazzak waited for the creature to notice him standing there. He stood with his simply clothed back to it, having taken a nondescript human form. He heard the creature finally scramble to the bars and call out to him. He waited a moment longer, then spoke.

"You have questions and I require answers. Give me what I ask and I may provide the response you desire. Refuse me, and your confusion will be so lost behind the pain you will suffer that never again will you care to ask." Having left his voice as it was, it rumbled like thunder, causing the one behind him to gasp in disbelief and fear. He waited with uncharacteristic patience as the being trapped in the Abomination made his choice. It wasn't a long wait.

"Wha..." He heard the burbled equivalent of a swallow. "What'd you want?" He smiled and turned, producing another strangled gasp from the cage as his blazing fiendish eyes became apparent. So many questions came to him that for an astounding moment, this ancient and near omniscient creature was at a loss for words. Yet never lacking in intelligence, he simply opted for a logical approach.

"Let us begin simply," he rumbled with an almost friendly smile, "by informing me from whence you come? The hovel from which I summoned you was not familiar to me; where is it located?" His question seemed to cause even more confusion as the bloated face scrunched into a look that said as much.

"Whence I... summoned... but that's not possible unless..." The voice gagged out the broken sentence as the creature suddenly looked itself over quickly then at its surroundings in sudden wonder. All thought of the man with the red, snake like eyes standing before him were forgotten for a moment, and Kazzak quickly grew impatient and was about to rip one of the arms off the living corpse as a lesson. Just as he started to step forward, it whispered something that snapped him out of his rising anger like the crack of a whip.

"The Throne of Kil'Jaeden." The whisper was full of awe and disbelief fighting to overwhelm each other. Knowing any being on Azeroth would recognize this place, it wasn't so much what the creature said that stopped him. It was how he had said it; the mixture of emotion and body language (even the in twisted form before him) screamed of pure wonder at being here. No being of this realm would feel anything but fear, or in the case of his minions, subservience at the sight of this place. Yet this one looked around in unabashed almost childlike wonder at what it was seeing. Twice now, and in such a short time, Kazzak felt disconcerted, and the emotion was beginning to grate at his nerves. He allowed the being to gaze a while longer while he assessed the situation, but when its eyes finally met his again, it was as if a splash of cold water doused it and the look of wonder was quickly replaced by fear once again. That, however, did not seem to quell its bothersome ability to speak. Still adjusting to the decaying vocal chords, it used its voice once more.

"If this is where I think it is... and I think it is," he muttered to himself, then spoke up, "are you..." He paused and gulped, not wanting to actually ask the question that the demon saw in his eyes. The fear in the creature's voice pleased him once again, and he **was **intrigued, but no one disobeyed him. A grin split his face that was much too big and filled with shark's teeth, and with lightning speed the demon reached forward through the bars and ripped one of the exposed ribs from the putrid body. Rotting black and green blood gushed from the wound as the Abomination covered it with an alabaster hand and stood, opening and closing its mouth, eyes wide in bewilderment as to what had just happened. A moment later the agony of such a massive injury caught up, and the creature threw its head back in a gurgling scream. Falling to the floor of the cage, it grasped at the torn flesh, gasping for breath between each tortured screech.

Kazzak, ignoring his nature to bask and feed on the energy the creature was emanating, grew impatient and set a small globe of silence around the creature's mouth. Still screaming, but with no sound coming out, Kazzak continued his interrogation, confident he could be heard.

"I warned you; now back to my questions, and when I release the silence for your answer, I suggest you respond and not continue with that irritating sound or I will remove a limb..." He paused and turned his burning stare to the one in the cage. Locking his eyes with the disproportionately wide milky ones, he finished the statement with a single word, "... slowly." He watched in satisfaction as the other clenched its teeth shut and nodded vigorously. Content that he had made himself clear, he began to pace and speak, his voice still causing the ground to tremble slightly and the Abomination to wince.

"I see from your reaction that you know of this place and of who I am." He looked at the prone animated corpse with a less threatening grin. He was rewarded with an even greater look of horror as the creature backed itself into a corner, and he chuckled and nodded.

"Yes, I am the Doom Lord Kazzak as you have guessed, but you have me at a loss." He stopped pacing to look at his guest as he spoke this last in a mockingly sad but polite voice. "You know who I am, and when I saw you through the portal, I had no idea who you were." He continued his pacing with a false look of concern. "That is why I brought you here, little human. I am very interested to know what you know. I want to hear about the glowing cube I saw you with, the strange clothes you were wearing, the wondrous objects spread about you in your little hovel..." He stopped suddenly and looked at the captured being hard for a moment. His mind raced with possibility as the twice trapped, twisted thing tried to become as small as it could.

"Is it possible..." Kazzak's whisper was the sound of a rockslide far up a mountain that promised to crush all those below soon enough. Ignoring the prisoner, he strode back to the portal where the prone form of the young man still lay. The glowing box still emitted its radiance, leading Kazzak to believe that whatever the spell was, it was cast with permanence or, even better, was a Relic or Artifact in its own right. The cube didn't concern him however. Pulling out the artifact that had opened the window; he experimented with manipulating the image. Expanding the point of view and backing away from the room, his eyes grew wide as he found it to be in a structure unlike any he had ever seen! He tried to pull back further and found to his frustration that it would only go a little further before snapping back to the room with its glowing box. His frustration was only momentary, for what he had seen outside the structure had proven his suspicion, and he replaced the artifact, turning once again to his captured charge.

A smile that began as one of curious delight set the captive at ease, but only for a moment because it slowly turned to one of feral glee. As Kazzak began to advance toward the cage and speak once more, the grin widened to fit his growing, shifting form, and behind the growling rumble of his voice could be heard the crack and shatter of his bones.

"I want to know of your **world**!" He roared the word with unadorned and malignant merriment dancing in the bright red, serpent eyes. The caged Abomination gaped, speechless as it watched the demon quickly develop into the monstrous beast that was its true form. When the transformation was complete, Kazzak stretched his wings and arched his back in a bellow of pure exultation. Kneeling quickly, he looked at the tiny form of his captive with a malicious twinkle in his eye. When he spoke, his voice held an almost apologetic tone.

"We shall dispense with all the unpleasantness of questions and answers now." He twitched a black nailed finger and the silence was removed, leaving a whistling sound as the creature sucked air thought gritted teeth. It watched as the demon slowly poked its finger through the bars and froze as one of the foot-long, black spikes rested gently on its forehead.

"I am sure you are as tired as I; questions can be so time consuming and frustrating." He shook his head slightly to express his mock understanding to the little being and without warning plunged his nail into its skull. All the Abomination could do was emit a quick, high pitched squeak before it was enveloped in a reddish black glow.

"Worry not, my little worm, I just wish to gather all you know quickly." He spoke with a soothing voice drenched in cruel pleasure.

"This will not kill you... but it will take a few moments... and it will be painful… **very **painful." He grinned and as the images started to flow to him, and he began to laugh.


	7. Chapter 7

**6**

**Allegiances and Plans for War**

"_**V**_YERNA!" Tanya screamed with all her might into the unconscious void of the Night Elf's mind. It hadn't been long since the effort of imparting the vision had rendered her host to a near comatose state, but her last experience of being alone within her mind drove a spike of terror through her racing heart. It was her fear combined with the mental cry that brought the priestess to consciousness with a start. A gnarled hand was quickly but gently placed over her mouth as Radamantis kept her from crying aloud.

_I am here, Tan-Ya_. The lilting Elvin voice brought a mental sigh of relief as she nodded her understanding to the undead rogue, letting him know she was aware of the situation. _You are well?_ she asked with concern.

_Yeah, just don't want to get lost in here again. As wonderful as the memories of your world are, being alone here is less than comfortable_. She chuckled dryly at her own weak humor and felt a wash of caring from Vyerna as she responded.

_I know your fear, my friend; to be alone and afraid anywhere is a terrible thing, but to experience it with no recourse, to be helpless and have no way to alleviate it, is a burden no living being should bare_. Between the genuine worry she felt and the words ringing so perfectly of the truth, all Tanya could do was nod as she cried silently in gratitude. Not wanting to embarrass the young woman, Vyerna sent a last surge of encouragement and refocused on what was occurring externally.

The first thing she noticed was how close she was to one of the undead. Already amazed at how much had happened in the last few days, not to mention the last few unbelievable hours, finding that the first walking corpse she had ever encountered turned out to be none other than a human love interest from her past had been staggering! Then to be able to speak with him, however haltingly and difficult it had been, rekindled feelings she thought long dead. Along with that had come the meeting and respectful introduction of not one, but two others of his race, a Tauren and a Troll! The pinnacle of it all was that she had been essential in helping all of them communicate, and for once in her life, found she was able to actually share one of her visions. That alone had been a significant burden released from her shoulders. Never again would she feel like she had to face them alone again. This was the one thing that made her empathize with Tan-Ya so strongly.

Refocusing her attention and breaking from her reverie, she was surprised that she was so close to Radamantis, yet she smelled no decay – only the scent of dust with a hint of musty ancient tomes that reminded her of the room in the tower where they kept the oldest books of power and knowledge. Just moving her eyes so as not to alert him, she looked up into the decomposing features of the man she once knew. Though the flesh was shrunken, stretched tight, and blackened, the nose replaced by its sharp edged nasal cavity and overshadowed by the protruding cheek bones, she recognized the intensity in the stare. Catching the movement of the pitch-colored orbs that emitted their emerald glow from the movement of the muscles controlling them, she found herself superimposing the face of the human she once knew. The long but not hawkish nose was underlined by a well-trimmed mustache that connected neatly around firm, sculpted lips with a goatee and ended in a small braid tied with red string. The face, though set with determination, was gentle and forgiving; the soft grey eyes were always ready to forgive could just as quickly judge and condemn. The short cropped blond hair that adorned his head had once been long enough to touch his shoulder blades, and he had kept it neatly braided and tied with a narrow ribbon of blue she had once given him. He had not been a large man, but his training and upbringing had made him someone not to be trifled with.

As if feeling her eyes on him, the rogue looked down, catching her staring, and she froze under his gaze. He pinned her with his stare, and seeing the warring emotions in her eyes, he did his best to smile warmly. When she smiled back, he found he had succeeded. She could tell there was so much he wanted to say and was about to whisper something – anything – to let him know she understood, when she heard a gravelly voice she recognized as Gasalyn's call his name. He held her a moment longer with his smile still stirring old emotions, and then, making almost no sound, helped her into the darkness of the corner. Standing swiftly, his feet made no sound as he padded out to join the others. She felt a tug of remorse at his departure, then suddenly felt the warmth of understanding and assurance flood her from within.

_We'll find a way to make it work, Vyerna. Someone who made you feel like that; someone you thought dead and now know is alive, should be given a second chance to make things right. Even if Kazzak is involved, I swear I will do all I can to help us survive this so we can find a way to get you back together._

Vyerna merely nodded, not trusting her ability to maintain her silence in the face of so much emotion. She did, however, return the emotional message with a flood of appreciation combined with a sisterly love for this being she hardly knew – one that only days before had invaded her consciousness and started her off on one of the most frightening series of events of her life. She had showed her courage and respect, so much care and loyalty, and she knew if they survived she would miss her terribly when she was gone.

* * *

_**A**_s he approached the group, Radamantis barely heard the conversation that ensued between Thrall and the others. Ever since he had carried the unconscious Vyerna into the shadows, Joe had wisely relinquished control, allowing him full use of his abilities to remain unnoticed. This had also given him a chance to feel the touch of the one he cared for so dearly long ago, and he was unsure of how he felt about that. His mind was whirling with the thoughts and emotions resulting from the look he had seen in the beautiful Night Elf's eyes. Seeing her again after so long and after he had fought hard to bury that part of his past permanently had him reviving lost memories and old hurts.

_I truly understand what you're going through, Rad, but right now we need to focus on what's going on here. There will be time later to figure all this out_. Although Joe spoke with heartfelt honesty and kindness, the last part was tinged with fervent hope instead of surety.

Reading what was not said, the rogue's raspy voice responded simply,_ I, too, hope there is time_, before retuning his senses to the assemblage before him.

Gasalyn was standing just to the right and in front of the Orc leader while the others formed a loose line, side by side, behind her with the towering Troll being the closest and the Tauren and Undead warlock to his right. Just behind the Warchief, Rdamantis could see the silhouette of the female troll prudently standing just inside the niche behind her in the case of the effect of the Orb wearing off; this way, she could easily slip into its shadow. His eyes snapped back to those of the imposing leader of the Horde as he realized Gasalyn was introducing him. He extended his gnarled had to grasp the one offered by Thrall as he spoke.

"It is my honor to finally meet you, Radamantis, and I regret it not having been sooner. Many a tale I have been told of your skill and daring in combat and more subtle situations. You are an asset to your race and to the Horde." The rumbling voice held nothing but esteem, and a warm smile grew on the green face as the rogue simply nodded respectfully at the compliment and stepped back to be dwarfed by his friend Shmeegun. Thrall's smile faded as he looked everyone over, and Gasalyn stepped in line beside Masharret.

"I am proud to have you all as members of the Horde," Thrall continued, "and have always been able to count on Gasalyn to provide just the right individual or group to fulfill a mission successfully. This news you bring me, however, is such that I could almost wish you had failed." He bowed his head for a moment with a sigh and straightened it just as quickly. "We Orcs are proud warriors and relish battle, but as I and my father have learned, war is not something to seek. It is mostly something to avoid, and if that fails, one must find a way to end it quickly before too much innocent blood is shed." He paused for a moment, and once again Radamantis knew he had made a good decision to follow this leader. Thrall narrowed his eyes, focusing them on Gasalyn as he continued.

"Before I go any further, I would remind you that I am a shaman as well as a seasoned warrior. Even without using any magic I can sense there is another here besides the female behind me." Gasalyn's head bowed, and Rad could feel the tension radiate from everyone else, including Joe.

"I have never questioned or doubted you before, Princess, and I do not do so now. I'm sure you have good reason to keep them out of sight, but I would ask for an explanation if I am to discuss so sensitive a subject as this." The tone in his deep voice was one of respect but brooked no argument. Before Gasalyn could do or say anything, the slumped form of Shmeegun stepped forward.

"Wit' respect, Warchief, der need be some explinainin' before dem dat is hidin' come forwaad." Steady though his voice was, it still carried a tremor of uncertainty. Thrall simply nodded and waited. The Troll took a deep breath and explained his misadventure into the Exodar through the malfunctioning portal. He was hard pressed to not reveal how he had communicated with the Draenei and told Thrall he had spent some time working with alliance members and had grasped a remedial understanding of their language. Again, the Orc nodded and listened with interest to the rest of the tale as Shmeegun; it was obvious to the group he was being hurriedly coached by Marc. He explained Vyerna's involvement to be that she was the one that had delivered the news to Velen. With both the Draenei and the Night Elf bearing the news and Velen's mention of his father Durotan, Shmee explained their presence being necessary to verify what they had learned.

Looking into the eyes of each member of the Horde before him, Thrall eventually came back to the Troll standing before him.

"I know there is more you are not telling me." His voice was one of acceptance as he paused and let that sink in. The tension in the room went up a notch. "But as I said before, I trust you have good reason, and that trust has never been broken. When and if you are ready to tell me, then you will tell me." He paused again with a knowing grin, and the anxiety in the room decreased immediately as he turned to the female Troll behind him and beckoned to her.

"Now if you would shed that disguise and join us, I would ask Radamantis to retrieve the other he was with so I may meet two members of the Alliance fearless enough to sneak into the heart of Horde territory." Knowing the intelligence of his leader, Rad was not really surprised that Thrall knew where Vyerna was and strode to the alcove as Shmeegun subtly let Marc translate the request to Ravenbear. The comfort of the shadows surrounded him as he entered the alcove and let Joe take control to explain what was happening. Crouching next to Vyerna, he placed a calming hand on her delicate knee and struggled to speak clearly through the barely used and decayed vocal chords.

"Everything... alright... need you... follow... stay... calm... talk later... patience." His voice was like nails on dry ice in his ears, but he smiled as reassuringly as he could. She nodded in understanding and returned a smile full of trust and confidence that showed Joe exactly why the Radamantis of old had fallen for her. Helping her rise, they walked out to join the others just as the effect of the Orb wore off, and Ravenbear stood resolute before the piercing gaze of the Horde leader.

The entire assembly was then surprised as Thrall spoke to the Draenei in her own tongue with fluent ease.

"Welcome, young mage, you show great courage and honor by your actions. It is always inspiring to see members of the two factions working together for a common purpose. If those gathered here have come to trust you, then I shall do the same." He paused, and his face grew grim. "If, however, your intentions are less than honorable, the consequences will be most unpleasant." His voice was deep with earnest and just a touch of threat. Ravenbear stood quietly for a moment, her radiant blue eyes locked with his. The hint of a smile touched her lips as she dipped her head with a respectful nod.

"The son of Durotan is everything the histories report you to be." She spoke with respect and a touch of relief. "I assume you learned our language from your father?"

"Some," he nodded, his smile returning, "the rest I gained from study of history and practice."

The conversation continued for a time with Ravenbear relaying the information that Alliance troops were building up in the Arathi highlands due to the belief that there was Horde movement into Hammerfall. Thrall assured her that no such command had been given and that he had just received a full military report that morning. The only information from there had been regarding environmental issues and a request from a guard for leave to see his family.

"I am sure if I send an envoy to King Lane with this information and an invitation to visit Hammerfall as my guest, we can avoid an unnecessary conflict." He rested a hand on her shoulder with a nod when the unmistakable raspy sound of an undead voice spoke behind him.

"There is more to this than just mistaken reports, my leader." Thrall turned to find that it belonged to the rarely spoken Radamantis. Beside him, standing only a few inches taller, her golden eyes holding his gaze with respect and a little fear, was one of the smaller Night Elves he had seen. His eyes widened in surprise as he noticed her clutching the rogue's hand tightly for support. Looking back at the rogue, he found his eyes to hold no apology for the act. Still a bit confused but with more immediate concerns, Thrall let it go for the moment and encouraged Rad to continue.

"We have reason to believe that we are not just dealing with the Alliance." He paused and looked questioningly at the Night Elf beside him for a moment. Her eyes found his and she nodded. He turned back to Thrall and squared his shoulders.

"This is Vyerna, a Priest of the Alliance who is given to prophetic visions. She has shared with us a recent one that suggests Doom Lord Kazzak may be involved in the current situation." At this, the Orc leader drew back slightly, his features warring between disbelief and surprise while Rad continued hurriedly.

"For reasons I will explain later, I trust her to be truthful and know her visions to be powerful enough to come to pass."

Everyone stood waiting as Thrall considered what he had heard. The air was thick with tension, and Radamantis realized that the silence was so absolute that the distant sounds of life in Orgrimmar were echoing in through the entrance halls. Thrall spent these moments looking back and forth between the rogue and the priestess, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"This changes things," he spoke suddenly, causing Vyerna to jump slightly, and Rad gave her hand a small squeeze.

"If one of the demons of the Burning Legion is involved in this, then we can count on nothing." They could all hear the frustration in his voice and the growl of hatred for Kazzak and his ilk. "But why is he involved; that is the question we must ask. What twisted goal does he have that would involve sending the two factions to war once again?" The question was directed at no one, but Gasalyn stepped forward and spoke.

"That may be something we have to decipher later. At the moment, we can assume he is driving the Alliance forces to make this attack, and we have no choice but to defend ourselves while we figure this out." Thrall turned as she spoke, and when she finished, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he shook his head.

"That is why I have you to consult, Princess; I can always count on your logical council." She nodded at the compliment as he continued. "While I do not wish to battle the Alliance knowing they are being manipulated by this demon, I agree we must defend ourselves while we search for a solution. I will still send a message to King Lane though our contacts with the information you have given me; though I hold little hope of success, I must still try. In the meantime, forces will be sent to Hammerfall for its protection, but that will still take time we may not have." Frustration returned with a snarl as Thrall began planning for an assault he did not want.

"Shmeegun," the musical voice of Vyerna echoed loudly in the auditorium. "Tan..." Quickly clearing her throat before naming her internal partner, knowing Thrall could understand her, she started again. "I may know a way I could help. It is a small chance, but one that could tip the balance if it works." Thrall looked at the troll mage, and Shmeegun looked from her to the Orc, feigning only partial understanding. The Warchief repeated what she had said to him with a slightly suspicious look on his face. Shmee turned back to her quickly and gestured for her to continue but to talk directly to Thrall. She nodded and, releasing her grip on Radamantis, stepped forward. She curtsied respectfully to the leader of the Horde before continuing.

"Meaning no disrespect, my lord..." He held up a quick hand to stop her.

"Please, just Thrall or, if you must use a title, Warchief will suffice." She nodded a new respect showing in her golden eyes.

"Warchief, then. No disrespect but with what we heard from the Tauren Nutharen and Radamantis, I am reluctant to reveal my thoughts in the event someone in league with the demon could be listening." She kept her gaze steady as she spoke which gave Thrall his own moment of respectful insight into the young Night Elf before him. He looked beyond her to the rogue who looked only slightly confused.

"She speaks of something that has happened to you and Nutharen that leads her to believe it is not safe to speak openly." He spoke calmly but with the irritable edge of someone who finds out they are the last to know what is going on. Before Rad could respond, the deep voice of Nutharen rumbled forth.

"There is much we need to share with you, Warchief, but if there is something she can do to help, then I trust that she will do all she can." Thrall turned to look at the Tauren with a bushy black eyebrow raised in surprise.

"You, of all those gathered here, would be the last I would expect to show trust to any member of the Alliance."

"It is true that I have a great dislike for those who have made my life a difficult one, but as we have already seen here, things are not what they seem. Let the Night Elf do what she must while we report the rest of what has happened. Once you know of all that has occurred, you will see why she is reluctant to speak." As he finished, Masharret stepped forward.

"He is right – there is more you need to know, and our time grows short." Her raspy voice held impatience tempered with a pleading tone. Thrall looked over all those assembled one more time, then decided his course with a nod of his head and pointed at Shmeegun.

"Very well, you give her back the Orb and get her out of here." He looked at the Draenei as the troll handed her the sphere and switched to her language.

"I ask that you be my messenger to the king. It will be faster if you go than any other method. Do what you can to convince him that he is being manipulated by the demon, but be cautious. If he is already within the demon's grasp, you may risk much by even speaking to him. There is no honor in a useless death." She nodded and grasped the Orb. Giving the large troll a quick hug, she activated the device and left at a quick trot as a female troll once again. As she left, Thrall faced the rogue and Night Elf, speaking quickly to Radamantis.

"Wait until we leave, then do what you must to get her where she needs to be. When it is done, meet us in my chambers. We have much to discuss." With that, he beckoned the others to follow and called to the guards as Radamantis faded into the shadows with Vyerna.

* * *

_**T**_hey all sat in Thrall's private meeting chamber while he finished outlining his orders to one of his lieutenants. Shelly watched through Masharret's eyes as the Warchief unstrapped the huge hammer on his back, setting it aside while continuing to talk and point to positions on a map rolled out on the table before him. When they had first entered the room, she had been surprised to find it rather sparse for one in Thrall's position. There was plenty of space and no lack of seating, but the chairs and couches were of a simple design. The wall behind his seat was hung with a tapestry depicting the symbol of the Horde – a red design similar to a crude starburst on a flat black background. With the exception of a few ornate-looking weapons, the walls were bare, and only a few furred rugs covered the heavy wooden floors. Iron sconces were set at intervals along the wall holding torches for light when night fell, and for the moment, the sunlight bloomed though well-placed holes where the walls met the ceiling. A thatched covering sheltered the hole in the center of the roof where the smoke from the torches escaped.

Her attention returned to the Orc as he finalized his directives and ordered the other Orc to take the information directly to Leani and have her gather what she needed to defend Hammerfall. As his deputy saluted him and rushed off to fulfill his obligations, Shelly spoke to Masharret.

_She must be one hell've a warrior for him to put her in charge_. Shelly felt a small jolt of surprise at her statement.

_A formidable warrior, she is, and a great leader. Leani is always one of the first to volunteer for dangerous missions. Her mastery of fighting is well-known as well as her care for those she fights with. Where she goes, many are willing to follow without hesitation._ The pride in her voice was pure and untainted; filled with admiration but tempered with the certainty of knowing Leani on a personal level.

Returning to the table and rolling up the map, Thrall called for some refreshments and sat heavily in his chair. They all waited patiently as pitchers of water and platters of meat, bread, cheese, and fruit were brought to be placed on the table. Grabbing a hunk of the meat, Thrall signaled for the others to get something as well. After a few moments of silence punctuated by the sounds of eating, Thrall sat back and proceeded to listen as each of them told what had happened. Nutharen spoke first, knowing his leader was anxious to hear what he and Rad had to say. After hearing of the attack in Undercity, he halted them and called in a guard. Thrall instructed him to make a thorough search through the city for any of the wraiths. As he was leaving, an idea occurred to Shelly.

_Hey, Masharret, don't warlocks have..._

_Yes, Shelly, I was just about to suggest that. Good thinking_. The warlock sent a quick burst of gratitude to her guest.

"Warchief," she stood and caught his attention, "I will also cast a spell that will warn us if any hidden 'guests' are here." He nodded in agreement.

"I know of this magic; it will also warn us if any arrive, correct?"

"Yes, for a time. It is a fairly simple casting, and if need be, I can recast it with little effort." She spoke with no arrogance, just simply stating a fact. Thrall asked her to proceed, and with a few simple gestures coupled with the language of magic she was done. A quick look around confirmed the fact that they were alone, and the Warchief sat back down in his chair. He motioned for Nutharen to continue, and the hunter finished the tale quickly, putting in plain words that what had happened at the tower was beyond his knowledge to explain. Thrall held the Tauren's gaze a moment longer. Then, having heard from Gasalyn and Masharret the day before and Shmeegun's account in the arena, he sat back in his chair and thoughtfully chewed on a slice of meat. He looked over the group from beneath his furrowed brow for a few moments while he chewed.

Swallowing, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair and locking his massive green fingers together in front of him. His expression was one of serious thought mixed with suspicion and a slight downturn at the edge of his tusk-filled mouth. His eyes, red irises seeming to darken as they narrowed with intensity, looked from one member of the group to the other until they finally came to rest on the large, teal-haired troll.

"Something is not right." He rumbled quietly as he looked at Shmeegun. "I am not sure of what it is, but I know you understood what the Draenei was saying when she spoke. I let the ruse continue because, as I said before, I trust that you will tell me when you are ready, but things have changed. If I am to perform my duties as leader of the Horde, than I must have all the information available to me. With a threat of this magnitude endangering my people, I can allow no secrets from those under my command. I ask that you return the trust I have in you and reveal whatever it is that you are keeping from me." He sat expectantly while the others all looked at each other.

_Will he understand if we tell him?_ Shelly asked her host.

_He is very intelligent, which is one of the reasons he is our leader, but that is not the issue here. If we do not tell him, he will be forced to imprison us until such time as we do._ She paused for a second, then seeming to make up her mind, stood from her chair.

"Before I speak, I ask that **all **those here give their assent first. This is not a decision I may make alone." Thrall raised an eyebrow at her accentuation of the word 'all', but waited as the others, one by one, nodded their affirmation. With a sigh of relief, Masharret continued. "The information we are about to reveal will be difficult to understand and even harder to believe. The nature of this is such that we ask that, for reasons that will soon become clear, it be kept within the confines of this room."

Thrall nodded hesitantly at first, then seeing the look on the faces of those before him, nodded once more with finality. Looking at the others, Masharret steeled herself as she turned back to her leader and began. "A few days ago, those of us here and the Night Elf Vyerna, were... paired with the essences of beings from another realm." The look of pure astonishment on Thrall's face was quickly replaced with one of anger as he gripped the handle of his hammer beside him. Masharret held up her hands while everyone else froze and spoke quickly.

"They mean no harm, Warchief; their arrival here was as much a surprise to them as it was for us! We have come to trust them as much as you do us, and if you speak with them you will see why!" He paused, still gripping the handle, but his expression changed to one of wary curiosity.

"Speak with them how." He stated flatly. The warlock looked at the others questioningly and after a moment Shmeegun nodded. She lowered her hands, returning her attention to Thrall.

"Please, for all the years you have trusted us, continue to do so now. What happens next will be no stranger to you than it has been for us, but I assure you, we allow it to happen and it is **not** our mind being controlled."

"Controlled!" Thrall almost shouted, and Masharret cut him off.

"Please! You will understand what I speak of in a moment; I only wished to warn you before it happened!" Her voice was almost frantic with pleading, and it got through to the hulking Orc. Relaxing only slightly but still ready to spring into action, he sat back in his chair and, still looking at the warlock, nodded once. She directed his gaze to the troll mage whose eyes were now closed and watched with ever widening eyes as the subtle changes occurred. Taking only moments, the eyes opened and Thrall could tell the Shmeegun he knew no longer looked from behind them.

* * *

_**I**_ don't think I had ever been this scared. Before me sat the real life version of a fictional character with enough power to easily destroy us all if he cared to, and right now he was pissed.

_You just be bein' yourself, Marc; dat bein enough to convince him dat you no threat to us_. Shmee's confidence in me was helpful, but I was still more than a little intimidated as I cleared my throat and attempted to speak.

"It bein' an honor to meet you, Thrall. I am Marc." Thrall froze as he heard my voice and the faint difference from the one he knew. I continued slowly and did my best to explain what was going on. Feeling limited by the troll dialect, I asked the others for help, and one by one they revealed themselves to the Warchief. After the third switch, he seemed slightly more accepting, and the tension in the room had abated. When the introductions were complete, the last being Joe, Thrall held up his hand and asked to speak with Shmeegun again. I gratefully let the mage regain control of his body and listened as they discussed the situation.

The shadows lengthened and the torches were lit as evening came on. The conversation had progressed fairly well once the initial shock had worn off and was in full swing over the topic of the portals. I had already revealed the talk Velen and I had had concerning the problems that were occurring as well as what Shmeegun and I had experienced before arriving in the Draenei city. At that point Gasalyn, who was in control of her own body, spoke up.

"On the subject of portals, was it not Kazzak who opened the Dark Portal?" Thrall looked at her with a grimace.

"Yes, a black day that was, but we were reunited with our ancestors, and many new wonders have come from Outland."

_That's an understatement_, I said with a slight chuckle referring to the game. _It was the first place I was able to actually convince Alliance players to work with us to stay alive!_

_I be seein' dat in your thoughts. It bein a happy moment for you._ Shmee sounded puzzled. _I be thinkin' it was a game, why would you not be helpin each otha?_

_When you get the time you can search further into my memories to explain that. For now I'll just say that the humans from my world enjoy power and all its corruption every bit as much as those corrupted by it here._ My attention was brought back to the conversation at hand as Gasalyn continued.

"That it was, Warchief, but my point is how he did it." She paused and let that sink in. Thrall was quick to grasp her meaning, and a look of realization caused his eyes to widen quickly.

"The Artifact!" He almost grinned as he said it, and she returned the smile as she nodded.

"Yes, the relic he used to open the Dark Portal. If he has found a way to use the device in conjunction with his own powers, it would explain many things; the least of which would be the malfunctioning portals." At that point, Harley spoke in the deep Tauren tone of his host's race.

"So if Kazzak is so powerful, then why couldn't he summon our bodies here or just come into our world, and for that matter, why would he want to do either of those things?"

"That is the trouble with demons," Thrall rumbled. "They do not think as we do, and one cannot guess what they desire. Their plans make no sense until the final moments, but one thing you can be sure of; the need for chaos and destruction runs through every design those foul beings create."

We all sat silently for a few moments digesting that thought with the sounds of nightfall in Orgrimmar filtering through the windows. The distant howls of the wolves that were used as mounts by the Orcs were almost calming in its familiarity from the game. Shouts and laughs of children playing in the streets and the calls of parents telling them it was bedtime brought the reality of the situation back into focus. I realized that regardless of our situation, the innocents here lived with this kind of threat every day. Ogres, demons, wraiths; all the mythical monsters existed here and were an expected danger while traveling outside the safety of these walls. Yet this society flourished, made even stronger by the simple fact that they had to fight each day for the right to just survive. It was a point I didn't miss when compared to the human race from my reality. My reverie was interrupted as Masharret stood with a determined look on her face and spoke.

"Then our course is clear; if we can obtain the Artifact, we can use it to send those here from the other realm back to where they belong." I scoffed and my host echoed me aloud.

"An' how you expectin' us to be doin' dat!?" He said incredulously. "Even if we be getting de Artifact, we don' know how it be workin' or even if we bein' able to use it!"

"I don't know the answers, but-" Masharret stopped as a breathless guard ran into the room. All eyes were on the flushed Orc as he ignored everyone and kneeled before Thrall with his hand extended holding a scroll. Taking the missive and dismissing the messenger with thanks, everyone waited as he read the note. His usual stern look turned grim, and with an aggravated sigh, he rolled up the parchment.

"All of this will have to wait. I have just been informed that Hammerfall expects an attack at dawn. I must bring news of the demon's involvement to the outland tribes and ask the ancestors for their wisdom and help. I need all of you to meet Leani in Hammerfall to help defend the fort. The five of you from house Exiled will bring considerable strength to the fight and boost the morale of the defenders with your presence. I will meet you there as soon as I can, hopefully with reinforcements." With that he stood, the others and I following suit, and bowed his head respectfully. Returning the nod, we watched him stride to the door where he paused for a moment before looking back over his shoulder.

"Remember, those of you from the other realm, you have something the demon wants, so you and those you inhabit will be targets." His brow furrowed with the warning then softened slightly as he continued. "You also posses something Kazzak does not have – your unique minds. You will be able to think of things we cannot. I ask that you use that and keep my people safe." With that, he turned and left as we all looked at each other with new determination. Then the quiet rasp of Radamantis' voice startled everyone.

"When I was human, I witnessed the destruction of my home and its entire populace at the hands of one of these fiends. I saw friends screaming as their bodies twisted from the plague they used to turn us into the scourge. Many of the children..." He paused, his voice barely audible, and then he snarled with naked hatred. When he spoke again, his green eyes blazed and his tone was one of barely controlled fury. "Most of the children did not survive the transformation, leaving the streets littered with their twisted and deformed corpses. Few of us endured the change with our minds intact, and of those, even less could keep their sanity when they saw the corpses of those children." I could see by the looks on Masharret's and Gasalyn's faces that they knew that suffering all too well, but had never voiced it aloud. Nutharen's bovine head hung low in respectful silence, and the all-but-forgotten Oreo pressed into his side looking uncannily sad.

"I wandered for days with but two thoughts keeping me from finding some beast and letting it feed on this putrid body of mine. The first was Vyerna and that I would not shame the memory of her by giving up with so little honor. The other, the one that I hear every minute of every day, is the screams of those children and the looks on their blackening faces as they pleaded and begged to know why. To know what they had done to deserve such punishment... and the look of relief on those faces I was able to get to before they changed completely."

The Tauren's head snapped up, and the girls both gasped in horror as the body I inhabited staggered back a step, and I felt my own sense of helpless anguish meld with Shmeegun's. Radamantis stood straighter in defiance, but his own anguish was clear on his tortured face.

"Yes," his gravelly voice broke only slightly, "I killed them. I could not watch them suffer or be turned into the mindless killing machines I had seen others of my village become." He paused once again, and I could see and feel the horror in the others diminish into the shamed respect I felt. Many stories from my own reality involving wartime atrocities were full of people having to make horrid choices in the face of unimaginable circumstances.

"It is this deed," he continued in a quieter voice, "this action I was forced to take that gives me the determination to go on. I 'live,'" he spoke the word with a sarcastic smirk, "to destroy Kazzak and his kind, and now that I have been reunited with Vyerna, I have even more reason to fight." He looked around the room at each one of us, his green eyes pulsing with emotion. "I have never spoken of this with anyone before, and those of you in Exiled know me well enough that I do not need your sympathy. This... experience has reminded me of the value of true friendship and reawakened my ability to care for another's well being." He turned to look at me, and when he spoke I could hear the earnestness. "Marc, I cannot say if I would have ever seen Vyerna again if you and your friends had not arrived here, but I am grateful and know you must be anxious to rejoin your Tan-Ya. Even Joe has a mate he wishes to see again." I had forgotten all about the lives we had all left behind and suddenly felt ashamed. Accurately reading my distress, Shmee spoke in a soothing tone.

_Much has happened, Marc, dis bein' a lot for anyone to be remembrin' everyting_. I sent a quick burst of gratitude as Rad continued.

"I don't know how we will do this, but Masharret is right, and we need to get that artifact. I may not be able to bring back those children, but I will do all I can to get you back to your homes." It was quiet for a moment before a short, deep chuckle issued from Nutharen. Everyone turned to look, and I could tell by the features it was Harley who spoke next.

"So, yeah, um… all powerful demon, army of crazed and possibly demon-controlled Alliance, an ancient artifact that could get us home if we knew how to use it, and no real plan." He paused with a grin that I felt Shmeegun mimic as his eyes flashed and he shouldered his rifle. "I've faced worse odds trying to merge into traffic – let's roll!"


	8. Chapter 8

**7**

**The Arrival The Plan and The Loss**

_**S**_o then we were in the Arathi Highlands, having traveled from Orgrimmar to Undercity where I got to see the dark and gothic interior for myself. When I found myself riding a giant bat to Hammerfall, the surreal unreality of it all hit me once again. A bat the size of a Great Dane was carrying me to a battle with fictional characters that I played in a game. I had to shake my head and assure Shmee that the confusion I was feeling was nothing more than too much stimuli all at once.

Arriving soon after the rise of the moon, we glided into the center of a walled camp filled with all manner of Horde members. Trolls, Orcs, Forsaken, Tauren, and Blood Elf all decked out in battle garb were milling about and preparing for the forthcoming assault. The ring of a hammer pounding at an anvil echoed through the camp, and I could see the flames cast a glow through the crowd as we landed. A few smaller buildings lay at intervals along the inside of the wooden barrier that encircled the outpost proper. Made of medium size trees, the wall wound a serpentine pattern to enclose the outpost known as Hammerfall, it being broken only by the gate at its front and a stone cave to the rear. In its center, a building raised on stilts served as a centralized headquarters as well as bunkhouse and hospice. Below lay a makeshift stable that was currently being used to house some of the gathered army. All exhausted and in need of some rest, we were given quarters upstairs to wait the coming dawn. As tired as we were, the rest was fitful at best with the thoughts of the coming conflict keeping sleep at bay. The morning light crept across the floor as we readied ourselves and conferred with Leani about the plan for the coming battle. True to her reputation, she laid out a tactically sound plan that showed her concern for loss of life combined with the responsibility of sending those lives into combat. The sun soon found its way to the point in the sky where this story began, and I was committed to action as Shmeegun rained ice from the sky in an attempt to slow the oncoming host rather than outright kill them. I attempted to concentrate on his passive senses of hearing, sight and smell to give him an edge while he manipulated the mighty forces of magic at his beck and call. All of us had entrusted our existence to the abilities of these five newfound friends with no reservation, and as I watched the battle progress, seeing the power and abilities they commanded, I realized the choice had been a mere formality. The dark pulsing radiance of Masharret's Void Walker, its globular mass gliding to and fro as it hammered foes out of its way, preceded bolts of blackness and fire exploding from the warlock's hands. Gasalyn and her Elemental were using their inherent ice capabilities, matching Shmeegun in an attempt to stem the loss of life on both sides while keeping the enemy at bay. The roar of Oreo and the thunder of his master's gun sent waves of demoralization and fear through any that crossed their path, while choked screams signaled Radamantis was doing what he did best. Eventually I found myself back to back with Masharret, our casting becoming more conservative as our reserves ran low. Losing sight of the others among the mass of bodies, flashing weapons, and explosions of magic, we were reduced to the narrow focus of survival. Six or seven other members of the Horde were desperately fighting around us, and we did all we could to keep both themselves and us alive.

A flash of light from off to the right caught my eye, and I warned my host with a shout.

_Shmee, left!_

His reaction was pure instinct as he reached out in that direction without even turning and released a blast of flame that incinerated the incoming arrow meant for his head.

_Thanks_. He spoke quickly while casting a bolt of ice into the chest of a Night Elf that was attempting to impale one of the Orc warriors surrounding us, freezing him in mid swing.

_My head too._ I replied with no humor as the Orc gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement before jamming its massive sword through the frozen assailant. Then, just as quickly, he caught the point of a spear being thrust over the Night Elf's shoulder through his eye. With a single grunt as it pierced the back of his skull, he fell over dead. I had no time to feel anything about the horror around me as I felt Masharret, her back still firmly planted against mine, suddenly jolt backwards, nearly knock both of us down. The sheer size of the mage kept them both from falling, but the sharp pain in his shoulder blade told me that it had been more than a stumble.

A quick word and motion from my host caused a shield of flames to encompass the two of them, and with a groan of exertion, Shmee threw both blue hands wide, his multicolored robes rippling with the motion.

"Get close to me!" He shouted to the defenders around us, and they immediately drew into a smaller circle. Closing his hands into fists, he pulled them quickly into his chest, and I could feel an increase in pressure around us like he was gathering the air tighter to him. Then with a roar of guttural speech, he threw his arms out once again with dramatic effect. A ring of flame that started so close to us I could smell the singed hair blasted outward in all directions with such force that it hurled all the attackers up and away like dust in a hurricane. The smell of burnt grass and bodies mixed to create a stench the likes of which even my battle-hardened host coughed at. Those around us cheered loudly, brandishing their weapons at the sky. Shmeegun stopped them with a shout as he turned and lowered a groaning Masharret to the ground.

"Stay close and be tendin' your wounds. Dis be only a short reprieve; der be plenty more where dey commin' from." He didn't even see if they listened to what he said as he observed the arrow protruding from the warlock's shoulder. It had gone straight through the dried flesh, and I could feel the blood running from the puncture where it had bitten into his back.

"Get it out," she gasped, her undead features contorted in pain. "I have a healing potion that will take care of the wound, but it has to come out first."

Shmee nodded without hesitation and reached under to grasp the tip. Giving her no time to think about the pain, he swiftly snapped the arrow head off and pulled it out. Her mouth stretched in a silent scream, and the wound seeped a small amount of thick brackish-looking blood. Showing incredible stamina, she immediately reached into her robes with a shaking hand and removed a small clay vial. My host retrieved the bottle from her weakened grip and removed the stopper, pouring a small amount of the contents directly on the wound, then the rest between her black and trembling lips. The effect was almost instantaneous as I watched the gash close and her shaking ease. As her face calmed and regained some of its normal strength, I could feel Shmee's worry and knew it was about more than our companion's health.

_What is it?_ I asked simply.

_I an' I bein' out of magic til I can rest, an' I be tinkin' dat dem Alliance not be letting us rest._ His voice was calm but resigned as he helped Masharret to her feet. Drawing his dagger, he looked around at the new surge of attackers headed our way.

* * *

_**O**_reo was bleeding from several wounds, some of them showing the white of bone, but he was completely oblivious to them. The raptor charged, snapping its jaws and leaping to use the razor-like talons on its feet to tear apart any foe Nutharen directed him to. The Tauren held a tight perimeter around Gasalyn, calling orders to those few defenders left with them in his bellowing voice between blasts from his massive gun. As soon as he had lost sight of the others, he had focused on the well-being of the princess and those members of the Horde that had survived the initial onslaught. As soon as the fighting had begun, Gasalyn had led them to the top of a hill near a large boulder, giving them some form of shelter. Their backs to the stone and a troll archer with a crossbow laying atop the rock, they were doing all they could to keep a host of Night Elves, Humans, and Dwarves from overrunning their position. Another male Tauren wrapped in shamanistic garb and sporting a broken horn stood by the princess hurling bolts of lightning into the crowd. The energy lanced into a Dwarf causing his muscles to lock and keep him rigidly in place, but the rage burning in his eyes was enough to show that he was not done. A roar of pain from the raptor brought Nutharen's head about to see Oreo turn his lethal jaws on a Night Elf who had cut him across the flank. Even with the understanding that it was a life or death battle, Harley was still stunned and a little sickened at the ferocity of the beast as it literally engulfed and crushed the head of the grey-skinned attacker.

_It is his nature_, Nutharen spoke in a matter of fact tone, _and I would do the same_.

_I know, and it's like that for some people where I come from, just not me! I've never had to kill anyone before, and now_... He was cut off as a cry of pain issued from above him, and both Gasalyn and Oreo shouted and barked a warning. Harley watched through the Tauren's eyes as he swung around to look to see a small humanoid in black armor as it was reversing the swing of a nasty-looking mace. Time slowed as what he realized was a Gnome rogue pulled the weapon from the shattered spine of the troll archer in a sort of rebound swing. Up and over came the mace, the black and silver diamond-shaped head throbbing with red pulses, showing every drop of blood as it arced toward Nutharen's head. The Tauren brought his rifle up with agonizing slowness, and as the two weapons met, Harley saw the individual splinters and glittering pieces of metal fly away as the force of the blow smashed though and connected with his forehead.

There was no real pain, just the crack of the impact and a flash of blinding light. His ears rang loudly, blocking out the sounds of battle, and Harley found himself suddenly, blind, deaf, helpless, and frustrated as he felt the body of the behemoth that was his host crash to the ground. As soon as unconsciousness took Nutharen, Harley knew that he was defenseless, and without thinking about any consequences, he leapt forward and took control.

Pain – whole worlds of it radiated from his head and coursed throughout his entire body as he forced his eyes to open. Blurred from the agony and hazed in red from the blood flowing freely down his furry brow, his vision swam and his stomach threatened to empty its contents right then and there if he moved too fast. With every second promising imminent death, he gritted his teeth and swallowed the bile rising in his throat as he slowly rolled to one side. He could hear the battle still raging around him, the clash of weapons, Gasalyn's gritty voice speaking words of power with the subsequent hisses of ice and crackle of fire. Somewhere behind the cacophony, Harley heard the barks and snarls of Oreo still trying to make his way to his injured master. A grimace of pain mixed with a dark grin at the screams of those that got in the raptor's way crossed his features with a groan as he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled himself to his knees.

His eyes snapped back open in horror as he heard the beloved pet scream. The sound was like nothing he had ever heard; high pitched and ragged, like a horse but with a vibrating undertone that sank down as the breath ran out. He saw the armored warrior pulling the spear from the raptor's neck and advance toward him. Summoning strength he didn't know he possessed, he stood and swayed as new waves of pain tracked over raw nerves with vicious efficiency. He let the rage of seeing Nutharen's long-time companion so brutally killed suffuse him and drew one of the blades on the Taurens belt. He knew he had no idea how to use the weapon, but he was sure as hell not going to stand there and die without trying something. He raised the blade in front of him and spat some of the blood that had seeped into his mouth at the approaching assailant with a wicked grin. His vision still swam with the nausea and pain, so he couldn't tell what race the armored foe was, but he saw them pause at his defiant action which emboldened him to take a step forward and brandish the scimitar threateningly.

The sound of Gasalyn's voice finally registered through his haze, and he realized she had shouted at him more than once already. Before him, the attacker planted the tip of the spear into the ground just as something struck him in the back. He struggled with his balance while thinking it was impossible for there to be even more pain. He was awestruck at the new development; the old pain being a hammering throb, this new one was a sharp, constant scream from his nerve endings. As he dropped to his knees, he was almost relived to feel much of the pain quickly disappear into a cold numbness. Sounds began to meld together as he realized he was going into shock. Gasalyn's voice fused with the crackle of her spell. The death cry of his unseen attacker came out as metal shards striking stone and a deep, slow bellow. He felt, rather than heard, the compression of a spell going off nearby as his vision dimmed.

Suddenly he felt hands turning him over and a feeling of warmth spread throughout his frame. The pain replaced the coldness and then lessened considerably as he felt the flesh on his back and head crawl and reform. Gasalyn's voice was close, and he realized she was speaking to him.

"Nutharen, can you move? We have little time." Her voice was firm with command but covered in worry. He opened his eyes just as she leaned in close, thankfully blocking out the direct rays of the sun, and grinned slightly when she saw he was conscious. Harley was still a bit disturbed by the features of the undead, but he managed a weak smile and nodded as he spoke softly.

"Yeah, I can move, but Nutharen is still out." She frowned and shook her head slightly with a whisper.

"Others are listening, Harley; you must assume the place of Nutharen for the moment."

He nodded his head slightly and sat up slowly as she stood and revealed the golden frame of a male-armored Blood Elf. The armor and weapons he carried marked him as one of the Paladin class, Knights with the ability to heal when necessary. The Elf reached forward and offered a hand to the Tauren, and Harley took it with a nod of thanks. He was surprised as, with minimal effort, the diminutive Elf almost pulled his massive frame to its feet by himself. With another nod, he thanked the bulky healer who was removing the plumed helmet to reveal equally golden hair and the surreal Elvin beauty possessed by his entire race.

"Thank you for your help..." He paused, and the Paladin thought he was waiting for a name.

"Valtoren of the Sindorei at your service." He spoke promptly with a flourished bow, and it was everything Harley could do to keep a straight face at the theatrics as he continued.

"Valtoren, then, I am in your debt." He stopped suddenly and turned. Reading the look correctly, Valtoren spoke solemnly.

"My apologies… Your pet was beyond help when I got here, and we have little enough time for you to recover. I witnessed his actions, and if I may have his name I will make sure he is remembered among the heroic fallen."

An ache filled Harley and he felt silent tears brimming in his eyes.

"Oreo. His name was Oreo," he spoke gruffly. There was a moment of silence, and then Gasalyn spoke hesitantly.

"We need to move..." Harley nodded and turned to look at her.

"I know. There's a battle going on." He spoke flatly, and the Princess laid a hand on his massive arm. Behind him, he heard Valtoren's armor rattle as he jogged back into battle.

"Jake says he's sorry and knows how much Oreo meant to you even on your world." Harley nodded with a sigh as he picked up the sword he dropped and responded.

"I know he does, but Nutharen is gonna be pissed when he wakes up."

* * *

_**J**_oe watched in unabashed amazement as Radamantis dive rolled forward, barely avoiding the slash of a descending halberd, and came to one knee with both blades sunk deep into the throat of the armored human. Actions based on instinct and training, he pulled the blades down, reversing them, and stuck them into the ground while rolling onto his back, kicking the pole out of the dying man's grip into the face of a Night Elf behind him. It smashed the nose with a satisfying crunch, and the rogue continued his reverse summersault, straightening his body and slamming his boney feet into the Elf's chest, sending him flying backwards. Drawing his knees in and releasing his grip on the blades, Rad landed on his feet once again and reacquired his weapons with blinding speed. A quick look around told him no immediate enemies were in range, but he saw an Orc some distance in front of him grappling with a large male Draenei. They were both bleeding profusely, and Rad could tell the Orc, whose back was to them, was quickly losing his strength. Replacing the daggers in their sheaths, the rogue reached into a pouch and brought forth a garrote as he sprinted forward. Four or five quick steps brought him up to speed and he leapt up while twisting his body in mid air so he faced the ground and flew over the combatants feet first. His timing perfect, he came down just behind the Draenei, wrapping the garrote around the thick blue throat. The force of the landing caused the wire to slip effortlessly into flesh, slicing all the way to the spine. Blue blood poured over the Orc, and the Draenei's silent struggle lasted only seconds before he fell to his knees and Rad released one of the wire's handles, letting it slide around the neck and back into his hand.

Breathing hard, the Orc nodded his thanks to the undead rogue as he re-coiled the deadly strangling weapon and replaced it in its pouch.

_Jesus Christ_, Joe whispered in awe.

_It is what I do, and I have done it for a long time_. Radamantis' statement held no pride or remorse. The words were a flat, emotionless fact. During the first moments of the battle, Radamantis had used his stealth to stay out of direct combat. Preferring to work alone, he had moved around the exterior of the conflict and struck down opponents before they knew he was there. Once the combat was fully joined, he moved unseen among the frenzied fighters and continued with his silent form of death until too many eyes were looking in his direction and he was forced into open battle.

This was not a detriment; the rogue simply switched tactics and continued to mow down anyone who challenged him. The only combatant he avoided face to face confrontation with were those that used magic. Joe knew he wasn't afraid to face a caster; it was just a matter of common sense. Anyone that could attack from a distance held a serious edge when it came to martial combat, and Radamantis was no fool.

The rogue drew the glowing black blades once more and was looking for another fight when a shout from his right made him spin quickly in that direction. He saw the form of a female troll with teal-colored skin releasing a dagger in his direction. There was no time to move, and he felt the wind as the blade passed a mere hair's breadth by his left ear. He was about to draw a throwing dagger of his own when he heard the troll's weapon connect with something behind him. The sound of steel on steel was followed by a curse, and Rad spun around to see an arrow hit the ground, the knife falling beside it. A short distance away, a dwarf was hurriedly re-knocking another arrow for a second shot. Radamantis didn't give him the time, and before Joe could think it, three blades were whistling through the air to sink into each eye and the throat of the bowman.

Footsteps behind them caused Rad to turn once again, but this time more slowly as he knew it was the troll who had just saved his life. She was wearing garb similar to his, marking her as another rogue, and what flesh the leather armor didn't cover showed a map of scarring. Joe cringed as he thought of what could have caused such extensive damage and how this young female could still grin as she was after such obvious punishment.

"You bein' almost fast as me, dead one." Her voice was light but held a rasp that told of damaged vocal chords as well.

"Your skill with a blade rivals my own. My thanks for your quickness." He nodded, and Joe felt a slight confusion in his host.

_What's wrong, Rad?_

_Something about this one… Her eyes, I have seen their like, but I cannot recall where._.. He let the thought hang as she continued.

"Dat bein' nottin,' I an' I was paid to be helpin' da Horde, an' you be needin help." Her attitude was cocky, but not arrogant, and she knew the difference.

"Paid?" Rad tilted his head slightly. "You're a mercenary rogue?"

"Aye," she nodded with a quick look around to confirm they were safe for the moment. "Rya da rogue, an' I don' come cheap." She held out her hand, and Rad took it as Joe felt his anxiety rise.

"Radamantis of House Exil..." His eyes snapped wide, and Joe found memories tumble forth as the rogue placed the name.

"Rya..." His voice was soft but filled with amazed disbelief, and the young troll tilted her head with a crinkled brow.

"You be hearin' my name before?"

"I... you're alive." Radamantis stood still, holding the equally confused troll's hand and tried again to speak. "Your father – I know your father." The mention of a parent caused a look of confused horror to alight on the young teal features, and she yanked her hand from his grip with a horse shout.

"Me father is **dead**! They tol' me before I escape!"

Then there was no time to talk as Alliance forces, shouting and brandishing weapons descended on the two, and they found themselves back to back defending one another. They were quickly surrounded and were both severely outnumbered when a massive clap of thunder erupted from somewhere near the center of the battle. Blinding bolts of lightning followed the eruption of sound, and those near its epicenter were slammed to the ground. As the dust cleared, the cries of the injured and dying were magnified a thousand fold by the sudden silence causing a vice of anguish to grip Joe's heart. Radamantis felt the emotional upheaval from his counterpart. Intuiting its source, he quickly pulled some bandages from a pouch and knelt to help a fallen combatant. Those few who were capable of action and compassion on both sides did the same. While he finished tending the wounds, he looked back for the young troll rogue and found her gone in the mass of onlookers surrounding him. Everyone else, including the companions, looked on in the sudden stillness as three robed figures appeared within the blasted area.

The tallest of them was easily recognized as Velen the prophet, leader of the Draenei people. The long flowing white robes he wore held little adornment as did the stalwart staff he leaned upon, but the long white hair and thick elegant beard emerging from the chin below outlined a face that spoke of immense knowledge. Even the most hardened warriors of the Horde gave pause at the pure ancient power that radiated from within the wizened blue eyes nestled beneath cloud-like eyebrows.

The second, Malfurion Stormrage, Night Elf druid and hero of the third war, presented a more visually striking display of authority. The earthen-colored furred animal skins he wore, along with the thick, gnarled staff he carried, veritably smoldered with the inherent magics they possessed. The forest green of the hair that flowed in thick waves from his scalp, falling in disarray over broad shoulders and compromising the neatly trimmed beard framing his squared jaw, contrasted drastically with the deep violet hue of his skin. The rippling muscles beneath the purple skin that stretched the garments he wore were a testament to the Night Elf's physical prowess, and although the Arch-Druid was less than a quarter the age of the prophet Velen, he was still considered ancient by any standard, and therefore held in high esteem by any who were in his presence. The last, a small female Night Elf with golden eyes, stood dwarfed between the two renowned Allies, and only a few of the hundreds gathered on the field knew how truly important she was.

"_**S**_TOP!" Malfurion's voice was a thunderclap that sent a shockwave rebounding off the cliffs and rolling over the already stunned mass of combatants. All heads turned toward the newly materialized additions on the field, their battle lust momentarily subdued. The ancient druid lowered his upraised arms and stood silent for a moment looking over the field. His look of stern command warred with an exhausted sadness in his narrowed glowing eyes. Velen stood quietly beside him and did nothing to hide the helpless grief that ran down his face, crossing the ancient lines and furrows in his skin, to land and mix with the blood on the ground.

From where Radamantis, stood he could see Vyerna, small but not insignificant, standing between them with a similar look of heartache. The expression was mixed with the hardened acceptance of one who understood the horrors of combat, marring the innocent features with its callousness. He felt a surge of pride for the beautiful priestess, but it was tainted with the knowledge that she was losing a little piece of her humanity with each battle she faced. The rogue felt a surge of sympathy and understanding from Joe.

_It is the lives we live here that force us to accept and become accustomed to the harsher realities. A lesson I learned all too well, but one I had hoped to shelter those like Vyerna from having to face_. His voice was quiet and filled with sorrowful acceptance. _Over the years and in these past few days, I have found that sheltering those you care for from the truth can hurt them more than the truth itself._ Joe found himself surprised by the astute words from the usually reticent rogue.

_We have the same understanding where I come from, but there are still people who refuse to accept that. I guess they're so terrified of pain or loss that they try to control everything that happens and are even more destroyed when it all falls apart __**because**__ of their attempt at control_. Radamantis nodded slowly as Malfurion began to speak again. His words amplified by magic, they reached across the battlefield to each ear with equal volume. Those of the Horde who could not understand the words still stood transfixed by the resonant voice while others hurriedly translated in horse whispers.

"**This battle is a facade! Your will to fight and kill one another is not your own! With each death you feed the one truly responsible for your actions!"**

"Why should we listen to **you**, Night Elf?!" The voice of an Orc bellowed from the crowd and one of equal tone responded from the gates of Hammerfall.

"Because I command it!" Those with their backs to the outpost turned to find Thrall striding through the wooden gateway, dressed in full battle gear and his massive hammer held by his side. "The Druid Malfurion speaks truly; the attack by the Alliance here today was guided by the insidious hand of The Burning Legion!" Gasps of revulsion and shouts of disbelief rippled through the defenders and those of the Alliance that understood the Horde commander. Malfurion repeated the leader's words with a similar reaction from the rest of the allied army.

"The Horde knows well what it means to fight as a slave to a demon, killing only for the pure pleasure of it. My father Durotan knew that horror and died unable to free his people from it. You all know well the story of Grom Hellscream and the sacrifice he made; his fight with Mannoroth the Destructor that destroyed them both and freed the Orcs from the blood curse. You know also that I was there and held my friend as he died and swore to never allow such a thing to happen **again!**" Thrall slammed his hammer into the ground at this pronouncement, causing a flash of brilliant light to erupt and augment his point with brutal finality. His voice dropped slightly as he continued but held no less intensity.

"Now, those healers still able to do so will tend to the wounded and get them safely into Hammerfall. The rest of you will sheath your weapons and help in this task." He looked directly at the Draenei and Night Elves at the center of the crowd. "I trust you will pull your people back as well." The words were more of a statement than a question, and both Velen and Malfurion nodded as they began directing the Alliance in a similar fashion. Thrall raised his hammer one last time for attention.

"If one more drop of blood is shed uselessly, the one responsible will answer to me personally!" The barely contained rage in the bellowed statement left no room for argument. Seeing his followers quickly moving about the bloodied field to follow his command, Thrall, his whole body trembling slightly with fury at the pointless deaths, lowered his hammer and signaled Leani to join him as he turned and strode back into the outpost. His final pronouncement, spoken through gritted teeth, was heard by only those within a few yards of him, but was quickly passed through the ranks.

"This battle is over."

* * *

_**V**_yerna walked from each injured soldier to the next, her thoughts focused completely on healing the most seriously injured in true triage fashion. Filtering out the moans and cries as best she could while attempting to see the horrifically damaged bodies with a clinical eye, the priestess found herself slowly detaching from the reality around her, moving with an almost mechanical precision. Walk, crouch, examine, touch, heal, speak soothing words, stand, and repeat. Her focus was such that she jolted with surprise when Tanya's voice filled her head with a shout, and she realized that the female human had been trying to talk to her for a while.

_**Hey, Lady**__!_ She paused for a moment to collect herself before she responded.

_My apologies Tan-Ya, I_... She didn't know what to say.

_It's alright, Vyerna_. She sighed. _I just got scared that you were gonna lose it. You're wound up so tight that__** my**_ _back aches!_ The Night Elf paused for a moment and smiled slightly.

_You know something of battle and death_. Vyerna stated confidently.

_Well, not battle, but I've had some close calls with death and seen my share of hard times. I just know that if you go all numb and ignore your own pain it's only gonna make things worse later. Like a cut that you don't clean, it just gets worse and does more damage to you if you don't take care of it right away. I felt you doing that and was trying to talk you out of it, or at least distract you from it._

_You have much wisdom, Tan-Ya._ Vyerna smiled again as she headed toward another of the fallen soldiers and heard her counterpart laugh.

_I don't know about wisdom, but as Marc always says, I learned all my lessons the hard way and that makes them hard to forget._

_Then you are both well learned_, she responded as she knelt and smiled warmly at the human male lying before her. His eyes found hers through a haze of pain, and she saw them clear slightly when they focused on her. She realized he could feel her compassion, and that alone was enough to calm him. He had suffered many different cuts to his body and his jaw lay at an unnatural angle, but the wound that was killing him was the right leg that had been sheared off at the knee and was pouring his lifeblood out to mix with the trampled and muddied ground beneath him. Laying her hands on his chest, she closed her eyes and channeled her energies into him with a renewed sense of purpose and heard him sigh with relief as his body became whole once more. Opening her eyes once more, she watched his eyes close as natural, healing sleep overtook him and beckoned to a pair of humans carrying a stretcher to come and take him. As she stood once more, she heard a familiar voice call her name and turned to see a large troll and much shorter undead moving toward her. A few of the Alliance around her stopped what they were doing and became alarmed until she assured them the approaching Horde members were friends. Looking at her with a new respect and disbelief, they went back to their duties and she headed toward Shmee and Radamantis.

She saw the look of alarm on both their faces just as she felt the tingle of magic behind her. Before any of them could react, a great pressure gripped her entire torso, crushing the breath from her lungs. She looked down to see what looked like huge red bands, then she was yanked backward into a swirl of color and the roar of wind filled her ears. The disorientation and abject fear that both she and Tanya felt were strong enough to cause her to lose consciousness. When the blackness faded and she opened her eyes, she found herself lying on an unfamiliar stone floor and felt enormous amounts of heat assailing her. Turning her head to the side, she saw bars and quickly figured out she lay in a large cage.

"Apologies to you both for the abruptness of your trip here, but I just couldn't resist!" The thunderous voice was filled with sarcastic glee, and Vyerna leapt to her feet and spun to face where it had come from. She froze in place when she saw the huge grinning maw filled with ivory swords and daggers.

"Kazzak," she whispered in horror, and he reared back in laughter so loud she clapped her hands over her ears. When he had quieted, he leaned in close once more.

"I'm flattered!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with false surprise. "Not only have you impressed me by thwarting the battle in Arathi, but you know me by name!" The grin faded and the tone changed to one of menace. "How delightful." His eyes burned with hatred, and the young Night Elf knew at that moment that the demon meant to destroy her.

"What do you want, you bastard." The defiant voice came from above the cage, and Vyerna gasped as she realized that it was Tanya's! Kazzak's grin returned once more as he lowered his massive claw. Within the palm rested a multifaceted field of energy that rotated every few seconds in a random direction. Lighting crackled silently across its transparent surface, and Vyerna could see the ghostly white form of a human female floating at its center. She had much the same slight build as the Night Elf with long flowing hair and fair features with no color; the angry facial expression, and she was definitely angry, was the only defining feature of Tanya that she could see. An emptiness suddenly washed over Vyerna at the sight of the unfamiliar human, and she realized just how accustomed she had grown to hearing that voice in her head. Kazzak peered at the shimmering jewel of a prison in his hand with a look of feigned surprise.

"What do I want?" he mocked and paused to look between the two females, his expression changing to incredulous dismay, as if they should know and he was surprised they didn't. "Why, I simply want to know you better!" The words dripped with sarcastic innocence. He reached behind him and picked up a shimmering blue crystal from a golden stand. Uttering a word in the demonic tongue, one that Vyerna immediately committed to memory, he opened a portal showing the real Tanya on her living room floor, her blonde hair splayed out around her unconscious head. He began to speak again, and with each sentence he spoke, his voice became lower and more menacing, each word filled with more acidic, burning evil.

"I want to know where you come from! I want your thoughts, your feelings, and your soul. I want to see you and your kind groveling at my feet while I rend your reality apart." He paused, bringing his hand closer to his face and Vyerna saw a look of disgust cross Tanya's features.

"What I want, you insignificant little wraith, is your world burning under my feet."

* * *

_**B**_oth of us stood there, mouths agape, as the portal closed. Even Radamantis, with his uncanny reflexes, had been unable to react in the time it had taken for Kazzak to grab Vyerna. With the news of his daughter still being alive, Shmeegun had wanted time to think and asked me to take control for a while. I had gladly accepted after feeling so useless during battle and had immediately found the rogue to ask him if he had seen Vyerna yet. Knowing I wanted to see her as much as he did before having to meet with Thrall and the Alliance leaders gathered in Hammerfall, we both had set out across the bloodied field in search of the diminutive elf.

As the shock of what had just happened wore off, Rad and I looked at each other with expressions that sufficiently communicated the loss and subsequent urgency to get this news to the impromptu council. With a last look at the bewildered faces of the surrounding Alliance members and the thought that they might turn on us with the idea that we were responsible, we did an immediate about face and bolted toward the wooden walls of the Horde outpost in the distance.

When we reached the top of the stairs that lead to the meeting room, the guards posted there jumped aside with one look from Radamantis, and we burst through the door. Everyone was on their feet with alarmed looks as we stood there gasping for breath. Around the table stood Thrall, Velen, Malfurion, and the surprising addition of Jaina Proudmoor; female Human mage who had joined with Thrall in the third war to beat the demon Archimonde. Most likely the single most powerful human user of magic, Jaina held a high rank in the Alliance forces and was well respected by all, but her adherence to the idea of a unified Horde and Alliance working together kept her distanced from the true circles of influence. She and Velen were the only ones standing that possessed the control and poise to keep their expressions neutral while they waited. Leani and the rest of our little split personality group finished off the roster of attendees.

"Kazzak..." I gasped.

"Portal..." Rad wheezed.

"Took Vyerna," I finished with a gulp, and the group erupted with questions and exclamations. I held up my hand, and Thrall rapped the table for silence as Rad and I finally caught our breath.

"Please explain," he stated simply. I let Radamantis do the talking so I wouldn't have to fight with the Troll dialect.

"We saw Vyerna healing one of the Alliance fallen and headed toward her with the intent on inviting her to this meeting. Shmeegun called to her, and she rose to greet us and allay any fears that the other soldiers around her might have about our approach when we saw a portal open behind her. Before we could react, Kazzak reached though, grabbing her. He pulled her back through, and she was gone. We paused only briefly, then immediately returned here." The heaviness in his voice did not go unnoticed by the others in out group including Thrall, nor did the helpless look in my eyes. Silence stretched for a few minutes before the Horde leader finally cleared his throat for attention.

"This is unfortunate," he rumbled sympathetically, "but it changes nothing. The plan Leani has suggested will go forward and, if we make haste, the possibility that the young Night Elf can be saved still remains." The others at the table nodded, and Gasalyn caught my eye with an extra nod of encouragement, telling me that it was Jake and he believed it as well.

"What be this plan?" I asked, feeling a little better.

"You will love this plan," Nutharen boomed with a half grin on his bovine face. "It smacks of one of your legendary ideas." I grinned in return, and Leani rose to relate the specifics.

"It is a threefold plan of attack involving both Horde and Alliance troops." I raised my eyebrows at Velen, and he winked as the Warrior continued.

"First, we have had scouts keeping tabs on all of the major threats throughout Outland and Azeroth for some time. Many have lost their lives to keep us informed of the evil in these lands, but the information they have gathered has always been invaluable. Although Kazzak and his minions are too powerful for anyone to stay near him long enough to keep track of his plans, we have been able to at least keep track of where he is, and right now he is at the Throne of Kil'jaeden. The reports from there have confirmed that he has been coming and going more frequently as of late, which also confirms the reports from those members of Exiled present." She paused to nod at the group in appreciation and continued.

"We have also come to the conclusion, with the help of the Prophet Velen and Malfurion Stormrage, that Kazzak is using the artifact he obtained to open the Dark Gate to access the portals throughout Outland and Azeroth. What he intends to do with this power is irrelevant; the fact that he is able to do this is why that artifact must be obtained." She stopped and nodded at Gasalyn which caused Radamantis and me to look at each other in confusion before turning back as she stood to speak.

"During my life in Stratholme I spent much time studying in furtherance of my magic, and one of the subjects that intrigued me the most was the origin of powerful artifacts. Not much is known about the Void Stone, as it is called, and most of what I read was conjecture and opinion. It was said to have been worn as a necklace by Kil'jaeden himself that he lost during the battle of the Sunwell with the Blood Elves. It is also said that it was left by Medivh after he opened the first portal to Azeroth as a pawn of Sargeras. All we know for sure is that the Stone itself is believed to have more than just the ability to open portals but that no scholar has had the time or ability to find out. In any event, it is important to **all** of us," she paused to look around the table and those of us from the other reality were able to get her meaning while she finished by saying, "that we get that artifact." She sat back down with a nod to Leani who stood again to continue the briefing.

"For the first wave of the attack, forty of the best from both the Horde and the Alliance will take flying mounts and begin a frontal assault on the Demon Lord to get his attention and use any and all means to keep it. Included in this vanguard will be myself, Thrall, Velen, and Malfurion, as we will need the kind of power they wield to survive long enough for the other forces to obtain their objectives."

_Dat bein de mos powerful group I an' I be hearin' of in me life_. Shmee spoke in an awed whisper in my head, almost causing me to jolt in surprise.

_Well, I guess if they want this done fast and have us get back to where we belong while they get this stone, that's who I would vote for. But yeah, I almost wish I could watch them in battle. It's sure gonna be something to see! _I brought my attention back to the table as Leani continued.

"Another group of forty Alliance and Horde, led by Lady Proudmoor, will land behind the battle a few minutes after the first attack has begun. This second assault will be to quickly remove Kazzak's minions. With the element of surprise, we hope to have them eliminated quickly so the second group can join the first against the Demon Lord." At this point Masharret raised a boney hand, and Leani nodded at her.

"Forgive my ignorance if I am speaking foolishly, but will not _eighty_ attackers be enough to take down the demon, especially with the like of both faction leaders and an arch druid involved?" Thrall chuckled dryly and everyone turned to see him shaking his head, his tusk-filled grin one of sorrowful mirth.

"It is not a foolish question, but one asked from lack of experience. Demons are a vile but hardy lot with vast amounts of power. Kazzak is a Demon Lord, which gives him access to almost limitless influence, and his experience in combat is greater than that of all of us gathered here." He looked over at Masharret. "Yes, you are correct in believing that the combined might of this assemblage of beings is the most we have ever brought to bear against him. We could conceivably do him great harm and even destroy him, but the cost of that battle would be high, the price being almost everyone who engages him in battle. This is not out goal; unless luck is with us and we strike with complete surprise or cause a mortal wound in the beginning of the battle, we fight to secure the Void Stone as quickly as possible. This will ensure the safety of this world and hopefully bring everyone in the battle **home** safely." His emphasis on home was not lost on my companions and me as Thrall nodded for Leani to continue the briefing.

"The last group will include those members of House Exiled present here and the Orc warrior Wolfgorr." When she spoke the name, she extended a hand to the corner behind Rad and me, and we turned to see a massively armored and muscular Orc step closer to the table from the shadows. From the corner of my eye, I could see the conflicting expressions on the rogue's face as he fought with surprise and frustration; surprise at the appearance of the bulkily-plated warrior and frustration at missing the fact that he was there in the first place. I was no less taken aback and was immediately aware that if something that big could stay that quiet and unnoticeable then it spoke volumes about the ability the Orc possessed. Reading my emotion with an accuracy I had come to expect after the time we had spent together, Shmee spoke up.

_I an' I hear of dis Wolfgorr, but dis be de firs' time seein' 'im. If he be everyting dey say he is, and he lookin' like he be, den he be da one ta be swingin' dat Suneater._ At the mention of the sword we had recovered in Mechanar, which felt like ages ago now, I saw that the ornate black and red handle protruded from an even blacker-looking sheath at his side that matched the obviously magically enhanced set of armor he wore.

Barely fitting the rock hard frame of the green skinned behemoth, the armor was comprised of matte black solid metal plates with grayish highlighting, fitted specifically to each muscle bound part of his body. The helmet resembled a classic knight of the crusade style with the 'T' style opening in the front, but instead of a flat circular top, it sloped to each side from a crescent ridge that ran from the center of the 'T' in the front to the back edge. The bottom of the facial opening was worked into consecutive inwardly curving points to resemble a row of sharp teeth. The enchantment of the helmet had the added bonus of enhancing the red irises, inherent in Wolfgorr's entire race, so that they emitted a crimson glow like smoldering embers. Vicious blades adorned the gauntlets while short thick spikes jutted from the elbows and knuckles. Upon the shoulders sat a human-sized iron skull that pulsed with a blue aura, and the eyes burned with an eternal flame. The massive iron-spiked shield he carried was as tall and almost as wide as the Orc and completed the set perfectly.

Nodding to Leani and then to Thrall, he spoke in a deep, but surprisingly quiet voice.

"I am honored that you have chosen me to carry this weapon and use it for its intended purpose against such a powerful foe. For the Horde and all of the peoples of Azeroth and Outland, I will not fail in this task and that of protecting those with me." With that simple statement spoken, he stepped back once more with a nod of respect, and once again I was astonished at how little noise he made. His eyes found mine, and I nodded respectfully as I felt a new surge of confidence at this addition to our fight. He bowed his head slightly in return as Leani began to speak again.

"Wolfgorr will lead the rest of you over the ridge when the other two battalions are fully engaged. You are to make your way through the battle as quickly as you can, without stopping if possible, to the dais that the throne sits on. Somewhere on that rise is where we believe the Stone will be located. Once you have found and retrieved the artifact, then you may search for the Night Elf priestess. The Void Stone **must **be recovered above all else or all that have died here and will die there will have done so for nothing." She passed her stony gaze over all of us as she spoke this last sentence and waited for each of us to show that we understood. Radamantis stared at her for many moments before finally nodding once with a grunt of acquiescence. Once that was done, Leani sat down and Thrall stood, his expression grim.

"This battle will be the last for some that join it this day. Let us enter it with our heads high, our eyes clear, and our wills strong." He paused, and as he looked each of the assembled beings in the eye, I could feel the current of pride and determination running strong and deep through the room. Everyone seemed to sit or stand just a little straighter with a new light of resolve in each expression as he continued.

"As soon as the Alliance commanders gathered here are done relaying the accord we have come to and briefing their officers, we will assemble each group near the flight master's post. Once this is done, the flights will leave immediately. Groups one and three will leave first and group two will follow after the count of fifty heartbeats." A knock at the door interrupted the Horde leader. Knowing it would only be important news that would cause anyone to interrupt this meeting, Thrall hollered for the guard to enter. He did so immediately and strode directly to his leader; leaned in close with murmured information then left as I saw Thrall set his eyes directly on me. I could see him pondering over the information he had just learned, and before he said anything about it, he rose and adjourned the meeting, asking everyone to prepare themselves. He didn't even have to ask me to stay behind as I could see by the look that whatever it was it was for my ears only. Letting the others by, I shook hands with those I hadn't met before and told the others I would be right down to join them. After they had all left, I turned to the Orc leader, and he wasted no time.

"To which of you am I speaking?" he asked calmly.

"Dis be Marc. Shmeegun be askin' me to be here for personal reasons," I replied, trying to respect my host's feelings without disrespecting his leader.

"Reasons that I believe will be faced soon enough. I know a bit about Shmeegun, and I am as surprised as he must be about what I have been told. Would that we had more time..." He paused for a moment, looking indecisive, then sighed a determined sigh and continued. "You have until the Alliance informs us they are ready for the attack, Shmeegun."

I felt confusion from my counterpart then a sharp jolt of anxiety when Thrall spoke next.

"That will not be much time, so go reunite with your daughter. Rya awaits you outside."

* * *

_**T**_he look of joyous recognition on young Rya's face was immediately followed by her flinging herself into her father's arms with a barely controlled sob. Embarrassed and feeling like I was intruding on the personal moment, I retreated as far as I could within Shmeegun's mind to give them the privacy they deserved. The mage was quick to tell me that he was proud to share this moment and that he was also glad to have me there for the emotional support as well. The shock of seeing her fully grown as she stood back changed to a helpless anger as he noticed the scars that covered most of her exposed skin. Seeing the scrutiny of her condition and the reaction it was having, Rya quickly defused the situation by telling him she would explain all of it later and was just happy that the lies she was told about his death were untrue. He smiled once more, and I felt the anger recede to be replaced by the uncertain elation of one who wasn't sure if what they were experiencing was real or not.

_She definitely got the best from both of you, Shmee; beautiful, tough and smart, you just make sure we get out of this alive so you can hear that tale of hers_. I spoke with all seriousness and my host responded in kind.

_**When **__I be comin' back to her, I be tellin' her my own tale, Marc. She be hearin' bout you an' dem dat come wit' you an 'bout how you be savin' us all._ While I struggled with pride and awkwardness, he grabbed her once more in a tight embrace as he saw Radamantis headed our way. The look on his face said time was up and that we needed to get to the flight masters. Shmee nodded at him before he got close, and the rogue nodded back and altered his course to head in that direction himself. Releasing his hold, he gently pushed Rya to arms length and looked her over one more time before speaking quietly.

"I an' I almost not believin' you to be here, but I know dat I don' want to go." He sighed as she smiled. A tear escaped her eye and slowly slid down her cheek. "You be knowin' what be happinen'?" She nodded as her smile faded. "Den you be knowin' I have to be goin.'" She opened her mouth to say something, and he held his hand gently against it to stop her and continued. "I won' be long. I be comin' back before de sun be settin.' You be makin' somtin' to eat, an' I promise I be here to be tellin' ya how good it be." He smiled, and she choked out a laugh that became a sob. He pulled her close once more and lowered his voice. "I jus foun' you again. I not be letting anyting stop me from comin' back. Besides, I an' I got me a secret weapon." She pulled back with a confused look, and he winked before laying a hand gently on her cheek. She leaned into it and they stood silent for a moment longer before he let her go and headed to join the group assembling at the flight masters. He fought hard to contain the fear and doubt that was boiling up in him, and I knew that there was nothing I could say to make a difference, so I simply put all my effort into a burst of determined confidence. The emotional turmoil receded a little, but I could still feel the tear that made its way down his face as we mounted the Nether Ray and headed off toward our fate.


	9. Chapter 9

**8**

**The Battle, the End, and the Beginning**

It was an impressive sight to see so many Horde and Alliance flying together as we passed over the Blasted Lands toward the Dark Portal. The sheer power of the group aside, it was heartening to see the combined effort of two long time enemies working together, even if it was a situation of necessity. As we passed through the gates, Thrall signaled to us to veer off and take our separate route to the mountain top know as the Throne of Kil'jaeden. With a salute from Wolfgorr on his ethereal blue Netherdrake, we all pulled the rains of our respective mounts and adjusted our course. Up ahead I could see the spitting columns of fire and cracked red clay that covered the landscape of Hellfire Peninsula. Off to the right, towering over a Horde outpost below, were the craggy peaks of the Throne, and I knew that in the center of those jagged stones rested a valley filled with fire, twisted denizens of evil, and the Demon Lord Kazzak.

We landed on the southern edge and were greeted with the telltale clash of battle as the first wave began. Explosions of energy lit the sky and sent showers of dust and debris careening over our heads and down the side of the cliffs. Kazzak's booming voice roared out insults and laughter punctuated with grunts of pain as a hit was scored. Wolfgorr quietly reviewed the plan with all of us only once and assigned everyone a position for movement. Placing the rogue in the lead, he would follow with the Tauren behind him and then Masharret and me. Protective spells were cast just as the second wave flew overhead, and a new crescendo of battle sound was reached as they made short work of the lesser beings that followed the Demon Lord. I smiled slightly as I heard the familiar sounds of an Ice Storm being cast by Jaina Proudmoor and almost felt bad for his minions... almost. Then there was no time for thought as Radamantis disappeared over the embankment and the rest of us quickly followed.

I almost stumbled when I saw the other side.

The unbelievably immense size of the opponent we faced startled me, and battle raged around him at heights of ferocity that I had never dreamed could exist. The magic that was being used by both the demon and his attacker had, in just these few moments, built to such intensity that the air was charged with it. It made simple movement seem like I was hurrying through a cloud of wasps that had no mass or substance, yet their buzzing, insect anger had enough force to slow you down. Concussive shockwaves of heat, light, and sound mixed and exploded with shouts and bellows of rage and pain. At one point, while trying to stay focused on just Masharret's back in an attempt to remain sane, I caught a glimpse of Thrall. Through the pillars that were the demon's legs, I could see the arc of lightning that erupted from the end of his war hammer. In that flash of brilliance, his face showed his jaw almost distended in a bellow of rage and eyes that burned with the bloodlust of the Orcish race. Had I not seen and known the other side of the Horde leader, I could see how he struck fear and awe into his opponents.

The second group had done its job with clockwork efficiency as I stepped over and around the remains of numerous demonic and other unrecognizable corpses. One of the huge Fel Reavers still stood, but it was staggering and obviously unable to withstand the punishment it was receiving for very much longer. Amongst the bodies, the noise of battle, and the stench of death, I was beginning to feel that familiar feeling that I had experienced in the Mechanar building within the pit of my stomach. I was just about to ask my host how much further we had to go when suddenly we were there.

Radamantis was already standing by the stone and steel cage that held Vyerna, and she was pointing to something I couldn't yet see. Following her finger, I saw Gasalyn standing next to a huge pulsing blue stone that was set in an ornate, golden, four pronged stand. She placed her hands upon the artifact while Harley and Rad struggled to release the Night Elf. Masharret moved to help them while I saw Wolfgorr positioning himself for his attack. Shmee moved to join Gasalyn in her work with the stone when I caught a glimpse of something from above the cage itself.

Alerting the mage, I asked him to get higher so we could see what it was, and he quickly found a stone to hop upon. As the sight of the wraith-like form of my wife within her own prison came into view, I heard Vyerna faintly through the cacophony say something about the pulsing crystal and yell a word that sounded like she was coughing and spitting at the same time. Gasalyn placed her hands on the Void Stone and repeated the word, causing a rush of wind and a gateway to open behind it. All of this was enough to catch the attention of our enemy and cause all hell to break loose as he roared with surprise.

Seeing the progression of the events taking place, the demon wheeled and in sheer malice, slammed his hand down on the top of the cage. The crystalline prison of energy that held my wife popped with a puff of glass like shards, and Shmeegun grabbed his head as I screamed incoherently with pure disbelief and rage. Without thought, I pushed forward and began casting everything my host had at the demon. The unexpected onslaught of magic I threw at him caught him off guard, and he staggered backward a step.

Taking advantage of the moment, Wolfgorr ran full tilt at the monstrous being and leapt, Suneater raised above his head with its blade forward, and buried the weapon deep into Kazzak's chest. The earsplitting sound that followed that event was not so much a roar as it was a natural disaster. The Orc warrior was thrown violently away from the demon as a blast of light, heat and energy pulsed outward like a nuclear detonation. Everything nearby was flattened to the ground as a thunderous roar of pain and rage burst from demonic lungs. Everything slowed and became muted as my vision blurred from the impact. I felt someone grab me and turned drunkenly to see a bloodied and battered Harley pulling me up and toward the portal Gasalyn had opened. Stumbling behind him, I watched Kazzak thrashing about, minions and foes scattering in all directions, as he grabbed the hilt of the sword buried in his chest. Too small for his gargantuan fingers to grasp and it's magic causing sparks to shower down his torso from every contact with his demonic flesh, he was unable to do anything other than cause himself more damage.

I turned back to the portal to see Radamantis with a battered Vyerna in his arms jump toward the shimmering doorway. There was a flash of light at the moment of contact, and I shielded my eyes. When my vision cleared I saw the two of them on the ground in front of the portal and my heart sank. Behind them Kazzak had dropped to his knees and was about to fall directly on top of where they were. I tried to yell to them, but Harley pulled me once more and ran toward the portal. I wanted to scream to him that it didn't work and that we needed to get out of there when I heard Shmee in my head.

_It been an honor knowin ya, Marc_.

Then we hit it, and I felt a rush of violent wind. The last thing I saw was the massive body of the demon falling towards us before everything went black.

* * *

_**K**_azzak awoke disoriented, his thoughts scrambled. He felt weak and quickly realized he was bound with his arms crossed over his chest. Some sort of garment encased his upper body, enveloping him in a strong white cloth material. His surroundings were equally white and the room he was in was nothing like he had ever seen. It was a box by all accounts; four walls a ceiling and floor, all covered in what looked like symmetrically stuffed cushions. One wall had a small opening in it and seemed to have the shape of a door in its center.

Struggling to get himself to his feet in the confining garment took a few minutes during which the demon saw that the body he was in was no longer his own. He was now supplanted in the frail form of a human, an older male from what he could tell.

_They will pay dearly for this.._. the demon lord thought, a glimmer of rage beginning to form behind his eyes. A few more minutes and he had successfully gotten his balance and made his way to the small opening and looked out. He couldn't make out too much other than a supremely clean-looking hallway with more doors and their small openings, which he found, were covered with some clear hard material.

Suddenly a face was there, benign and wearing spectacles of some form the fiend had never seen, staring back at him.

"Back away from the door please, Mr. Beckket," the muffled voice came through the door.

Kazzak growled low in his throat. "Who are you to tell me what to do, human."

"Either you back away, or we will have to sedate you, Mr. Beckket. The choice is yours." The voice worked its way thought the door again.

Kazzak took a few moments trying to understand the situation while glaring at the bespectacled face in the tiny window. He could see the complete look of superiority there and knew right away that whoever it was, they were in charge at the moment. He might not have understood what was going on, but he was not stupid. Much as it galled him, he followed the human's request and stepped back.

The door opened and a large man in a white uniform came in before the skinny one with the strange eyewear. He stepped to the side, looking wary and alert, while the one in charge merely stood a few steps in looking at him with a detached curiosity.

"And how are we today, Mr. Beckket?" The condensation in his voice was clear, and it annoyed Kazzak to no end.

"How dare you address a demon lord in this manner?!" he snarled.

"Demon lord now, this is a new one." The doctor raised an eyebrow.

"I am Lord Kazzak, ruler of Outland, and no puny human will keep me restrained."

He began to recite a guttural spell, the raw demonic language causing the frail throat through which it passed to choke and bleed. He forced it to complete the passage with undeniable will, coughing out the last few syllables.

Nothing happened.

His eyes widened in complete shock. The spell was a simple one to him, and there was no way he could have mis-intoned it.

"Interesting sounds, Mr. Beckket, but I'm afraid I have heard children make scarier ones." An infuriating smile crossed the white coated figures face.

Desperation gripped Kazzak like an icy hand on his demon heart, and he looked at the large man flanking him, catching his eye and throwing all of his formidable will into a command.

"**Kill him**!" he roared, causing his already raw throat to pain him even more.

Something changed in the Orderly's expression, and he turned, grabbing the surprised doctor by the head with both hands and swung it completely around with a sickening wet crunch. As the lifeless body dropped to the floor, the Orderly stood over it for a moment, breathing heavily through a grin.

Looking up, the Orderly seemed to see his master for the first time and looked questioningly at Kazzak. The demon locked in the human body spoke, blood clogging his words and making them sound wet and garbled.

"Release me or suffer his fate," he chuckled slightly at this next irony. "The choice is yours."

As the man began unbuckling the harnesses of the straight jacket, Kazzak felt something wet on his face and looked down to see fresh droplets of blood slowly gathering on his crossed arms, feet and the floor below.

_This body is too frail to contain my essence for long_, he realized. _It will weaken quickly any time I try to use my powers and soon expire._

The last of the buckles came undone and the jacket fell away. The man, who had undone it, hastily gathered it up and stood there unsure what to do. Kazzak settled the dilemma for him. Grabbing a hold of his head with both hands and placing his face within millimeters, he whispered a few guttural words then a sentence.

"Show me the way out of this place. I have much to do and little time."

The demon allowed a smile to crease his borrowed face as his mind dove into his victim's memories, giving the other man no time to even scream as his brain was burned. Synapse by synapse, the alien energy of the magic coursed over the grey tissue, absorbing what it needed and leaving a smoldering wasteland in its wake. When he was done, he found himself even weaker and realized that the body he inhabited deteriorated that much faster when he tapped into the power.

Looking to his newly acquired minion as it drooled onto the floor he grew thoughtful for a moment, and then released one side of the head to get a firm grip on the Orderlie's shoulder. With a quick lunge, he bit into the neck of the leaning behemoth; had there been someone there to witness the event, they would have seen the surge of energies pass quickly and violently from the former patient into the Orderly. He quickly left Mr. Beckket's corpse, blood slowly draining from every hole in his head and soaking the padding beneath, to sink down and lie on the floor next to the big man's rigid form. Eyes shut tight and teeth clenched, the Orderly jerked and twitched for only a few more seconds before the eyes opened and a contented sigh emanated from a broadening smile.

"Much better," the demon spoke with satisfaction as he stretched the larger frame and cracked his new neck. "Yes this vessel should last much longer." With that, the Demon turned and walked out of the room. Closing the door and locking it with the keys at his belt, he went directly to the guard station down the hall and, using the borrowed identity, informed them that the good doctor was going to be a while and had asked not to be disturbed.

_**T**_hree days – that's how long we had been gone. A lifetime of experience that, for me, lead to an eternity of sorrow. When I came too, I was exactly where I had fallen in my room, and the computer was still on. Bleary eyed and stiff, I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes to clear my vision. The monitor showed my Warcraft character Shmeegul. The logout screen where he stood backed with orange light, its pixilated features looking much less real since I had come to know his face. The digital clock on the dresser glowed red, and the numbers read 6:23. Being that my room was in the basement, AM or PM was interchangeable, and I jumped to my feet remembering Tanya was still upstairs. Pounding up the stairs, slipping twice and cracking my shins, I raced to the living room to find her still lying on the floor in a ball.

"Tanya!" I shouted as I fell to my knees beside her and felt for a pulse. The beat was steady, and I sighed with relief, but she still didn't wake up. I shook her and was about to yell her name again when my cell phone rang from inside my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw the name on it was Shelly and answered quickly.

"Shell? You ok?"

"Marc! Yeah, sore and hungry, but fine. Is Tanya ok?" Her voice was elated, and I understood the feeling.

"She's alive but not awake yet. I'm right next to her. Have you heard from..." Right then, the phone beeped, and I pulled it back to see that Jake was calling, and I heard Shelly say hang on and that Harley was calling her. I looked up at Tanya's monitor and saw the talk program Ventrilo, was still active and grabbed her headset while telling Shelly to do the same. In moments, we were all on together and talking about what had happened while I sat next to my unconscious wife.

The others continued to ask about her as we talked, and I explained that she looked ok; her breathing regular, her color normal, she just wouldn't wake up. I shook her gently every few minutes and called her name to no avail and finally decided to get her to the emergency room. Darkness outside told me that the clock downstairs had been showing me PM, and that meant less traffic. I carried her to the car and, after strapping her in, drove as fast as I dared to the hospital, all the while thinking of how I could explain what had happened. When I arrived, I simply said she had collapsed, which was the basic truth, and they rushed her into a room to begin tests.

They called it a coma, a term that always seemed synonymous with brain dead, and said they could find no evidence of how her condition had come to be. After weeks of tests and agonizing visits from all of us, the doctors continued to be baffled. I knew what was wrong, but there was no way to explain it, and even if I could, I had no idea how to help her. The others were as supportive as they could be and visited Tanya every chance they could, but they also knew the hopelessness of the situation. I knew my wife did not wish to be kept alive if there was no hope of her being a whole human being, and I shared her wish, but I refused to give up just yet. I had lived through all the hardships in my own life and experience ones belonging to someone else. If there was any lesson I had learned above all others, it was that everything works out one way or another. It may not be the way you expect it, and you may have to actively look for the solution, but it all works out in the end. With that thought firmly in my mind, I grasped my wife's hand and, for a moment, imagined I felt it tighten slightly for a second. Right then the hairs on the back of my neck stood up like someone was watching me, and I swung my head around to find nothing but the corner of the darkened room.

"I'll find you again, Tanya," I whispered as I turned back. "I have to."

And far off in the deep chasm of the unknown, seeing things unfolding precisely as he planned, Sargeras smiled.


End file.
